


Heart Song: The Story of Ælfwynn

by Calleva



Category: Aethelflaed/Erik - Fandom, Aethelrik - Fandom, The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell, Uhtred Ragnarson - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Romance, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-16 03:08:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12334254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calleva/pseuds/Calleva
Summary: "This is our world now..."Almost twenty years have passed since the terrible events at Beamfleot and Aethelflaed's daughter is now grown and ready for marriage. Walking in the forest Aelfwynn meets a mysterious Viking who holds a secret that will change her life forever. The tragedy of the past will haunt the next generation, but will it bring more sorrow or final peace?





	1. Gloucester, Kingdom of Mercia 905 AD

**Author's Note:**

> My source is the TV series The Last Kingdom plus the book series by Bernard Cornwell, plus my own imagination. For instance here Aelfwynn is not Erik's daughter and the events do not follow my earlier story Fire and Ice. This is a completely different imagining.
> 
> "Heart Song" is deliberately chosen to echo the title of Book 4 of the Saxon Stories, Sword Song, which deals with the Thurgilson Brothers and the romance that we call Aethelrik.

"Stand still my lady," The seamstress mumbled, her mouth full of pins. Aelfwynn, obedient as ever, stood still. A new dress was being assembled around her, ready for the great feast. Her mother Aethelflaed had ordered some new clothes especially for the months ahead. It was all very exciting, she supposed....

Aelfwynn sighed to herself. Did her mother ever really think of her except as King Alfred's granddaughter and a means of stabilising power around the house of Wessex? "I sometimes think she doesn't see me," she reflected. Then she chided herself for her unfairness. Her mother had sacrificed everything to realise her father's dream of a united England. 

Aelfwynn was eleven when her grandfather had died; she remembered him as always unwell; gaunt, serious, but kindly towards those he loved. And he had loved her mother very dearly. She was his eldest child and they shared a special bond; he had overseen her education, taught her literacy and statecraft, even seeking her help when making his translations from Latin. She had also been taught sword skills and was an excellent horsewoman. For some time now, Aethelflaed had been the ruler of Mercia in all but name. Aelfwynn's father, Aethelred, had spent years on campaign, and now he too was in poor health. Alfred's women were left to continue the fight for Mercia.

"But I am not my mother" Aelfwynn thought wistfully to herself. Somewhere, she knew, Alfred's blood ran in her veins, but so did Aethelred's. And unlike her mother with Alfred, Aelfwynn didn't have an especially close bond with her father. Aethelred had been content to let his wife oversee their daughter's upbringing, perhaps disappointed that she wasn't a son. It was difficult to be Aelfwynn, so much expectation on an only child born into a powerful dynasty. When had she ever been asked if she wanted to be at the centre of a power struggle? And in the background always war. Danes, armies of them, rolled over the country in a seemingly endless series of waves, like a storm-tossed sea.

Now there was to be a great feast to celebrate the latest victory over the Northmen, but everyone knew the real reason was because Aelfwynn was coming to the age when she must marry. The nobles, earls and ealdormen, would converge at the feast and look her over as if she were a breeding mare. 

 

His name was Edric and he was twenty years old. At dinner Aethelflaed had pointed him out to her daughter. Aelfwynn, not having any particular preference, thought he seemed nice. Slender, fair haired and seemingly cheerful, he had a pleasant open face with blue grey eyes. He might as well do, she thought. Aelfwynn knew that her own parents' marriage hadn't been a personal success, despite the many victories they had shared. She would be fortunate to make a happy marriage. 

The day after the feast, Aethelflaed called her daughter into her study. Surrounded by books and scrolls, she sat at her desk upon which was a map showing the kingdoms of England. "I would like to announce a betrothal fairly soon," she said softly, eyeing her daughter carefully. Aelfwynn was so withdrawn! Perhaps she should have spent more time with her only child, developed a greater bond of trust between them. Well, it was a bit late now. "What did you think of Edric?"  
"He seems nice, but I don't really know him."  
"We can wait a while, so you can decide whether you should marry him. I don't want you to be unhappy, but he would be a good match for you, for Mercia." She sighed as her daughter looked at her feet in stony silence. "Did you not like him?"  
"He's fine. I hardly know him." She began to twist a strand of fine red-gold hair around her finger. Aethelflaed noticed suddenly how like Alfred her daughter looked at times, that same slight frame, with the slender hands and small features. Elf-like, which was part of both their names. And the thoughtful little frown when she was considering something was so like Alfred's expression. Oh don't let her be lost in the storms, she prayed. Her little daughter lost at sea.

Aelfwynn must not be sold into marriage to the most suitable candidate. Of course she had to make a good match but there were several young Mercian nobles who might do for her. How to handle this carefully, considering the young girl's feelings without losing sight of the need to choose wisely. Aethelflaed knew all about this. Years ago she had gone blindly into marriage thinking only of doing her duty; her prospective husband was handsome and seemed pleasant. Only after the wedding did she realise that she had married a stranger. Even when love is absent, she reflected, there should be a chance for it to grow. She could not bear for Aelfwynn to sleepwalk into a marriage in which her heart would grow numb. 

She reached for her daughter's hand and squeezed it. It felt cold and limp. "What would you like to do?" she asked. Aelfwynn seemed to be considering this, "Wait a bit. Get to know Edric some more," she suggested quietly, but without much enthusiasm.


	2. In the Forest

Perhaps it was because so many plans were being made, Aelfwynn felt that she should see her other parent. It had been a while since they had last seen each other. He was in his own quarters, pondering a board game. A cup of something - wine? - was poised on the edge of the table. How stooped he seemed and his thinning red hair had faded to an indeterminate pale colour. His hand reached for the cup and he drank as if not thinking about it. Aelfwynn wondered how many goblets of wine he had drunk already that day. "Father" she said softly. He turned and looked toward her, his eyes glassy. It was not yet midday.

"How are you?" she asked, stooping beside him. He shrugged resignedly, eyed the goblet and said "Wine helps to ease the pain, so not too bad. How is my princess?" But he wasn't listening to her reply. She didn't stay long with him and left with relief. They had never been close but she felt guilty all the same that she couldn't think of much to say to him.

Outside, she walked past the little stone church towards the trees. She wasn't allowed to walk alone beyond the church but she couldn't stay indoors any longer. She had to clear her head. Why did she have to marry anyone at all? It was her duty, her mother told her. But her parents didn't understand her! Somewhere in their planning they had forgotten that she was a human being and not a thing to be bartered. Sometimes I don't think they really like me, she thought with resentment. No one was asking her what she wanted, were they?

Did she even know what she wanted? 

There had been a bard at court, a scop, who had sung about love. Her mother had quickly suggested he sing about something else. But Aelfwynn had been fascinated. The song had been so real, had touched her soul. A Saxon woman had fallen in love with a Danish raider and taken pleasure and also pain in his arms. She pined for his return, but feared her kinsmen would kill him in revenge and destroy their child. A doomed love... Was it possible that love could be directed onto someone as if by fate? Wyrd? The Danes, her mother had told her, banned songs of love because they believed, superstitiously, that spells could attach themselves to the hearers, enticing them to love and impurity.

Oh how I wish it were so! Aelfwynn found herself thinking, and she stopped for a moment, wondering where this idea of hers came from. Was it really so wrong, anyway? Why did marriage have to come into the business of forging alliances? Why would she have to part her legs for some stranger who came with a large slice of Mercia? She wasn't lying with a man, but a piece of land and bags of gold. 

And gold feels so cold. She shivered and began to run. The air had grown colder but she didn't care. A spot of rain fell onto her face. Good! maybe she could catch a chill and die. That would get her out of all her problems. It would teach her parents that there were some things they could not control. Or perhaps she could get to the lake and drown herself? "God, how I hate being me", she thought angrily. "I wish I were dead...."

It was raining quite hard now. Her dress began to feel damp against her skin, and suddenly the idea of getting soaked seemed less pleasing. She wiped her face on her arm and looked about, shaking raindrops from her hair. There was a small woodcutter's cabin a way ahead; it wasn't much, but it might provide shelter if the roof was still good. She stumbled over the uneven forest floor and pushed the door. It swung open and to her relief she saw that inside it was empty and dry. She sat on the simple bench seat. There was a small narrow window to let in the light, but it didn't provide a view. She must just wait until the downpour ended. 

How long she sat there alone, shrouded in her misery and despair, she didn't know, but there was a sudden knock on the door. It was probably a forest worker she thought. She got up to open the door and found herself being pushed abruptly aside by a sodden figure who burst into the room. Her intruder half fell onto the little seat and slumped forward. He didn't look like a woodcutter.

Aelfwynn stared. "Who are you?" she asked. Then she noticed the red gash on his leg. "You've been hurt,"  
"Attacked by wild boar" he explained, clasping his leg and pressing the wound to staunch the bleeding. The injury looked nasty and she remembered hearing that people could bleed to death from leg wounds. Barely thinking, she tore a strip from the bottom of her underdress and held it out to him. Almost instantly he was out of his breeches and was tying the wound on his bare thigh but the strip was not enough. She tore some more fabric and held it out to him wordlessly. His tunic draped low across his groin, but he didn't seem to care about her presence in any case. Aelfwynn looked away, remembering to be shy. 

Who was he? He wasn't old, about twenty perhaps, so she wouldn't consider him young either. He was one of the darkest men she'd ever seen. Black hair, black beard, black eyes and that dark colouring which browned easily in the sun. Unlike her paleness. He seemed to exude energy and life. He must surely be one of the local thegns, but if so, why had he not been at court? She was sure she'd remember him if he had.

He looked directly at her. "Thank you" he said curtly and gave her a hesitant little smile that lit up his slanting eyes. Then realisation hit her. _Of course!_ she was blind, wasn't she? And she had blamed her parents for not seeing her! His hair - shaved at the side, with a central band pulled back into a braid. Viking-style.... 

Surely with him so injured she was safe from harm?

"Who are you?" she asked again slowly.  
"I am Thorbjorn Sigefridsson" he said. "My companions and I have travelled far, but do not fear," he raised his hand, "we aren't raiders, this time. And I owe you my thanks." There was a trace of an accent in his low voice, but she couldn't decide what it was.

She sat down beside him on the bench. "How is your leg?"  
"It hurts" he admitted, lifting his foot experimentally. He winced.

There was a sound outside the hut and Thorbjorn froze. "They chased us," he muttered. "I told my companions to get away on the horses..."

A knock on the door. Aelfwynn rose to answer it motioning to Thorbjorn to keep silent. He nodded and limped after her, so when she opened the door, he was behind it. One of the household guards was standing before her, damp with the rain. He was taken aback by the sight of Aelfwynn. "Are you all right, lady? We've been chasing a couple of Vikings, have you seen or heard anything?"  
Aelfwynn shook her head, "I haven't been disturbed or molested by any Vikings." she said half-truthfully. "I came here to escape the rain" she explained.  
"Better get you back to the palace, lady." He indicated his horse; the rain was now light drizzle. "Look, I got very wet in the rain, give me a moment to get ready." She shut the door and moved Thorbjorn away from the wall. His face was white with pain. "I'll come back tomorrow with some food and drink for you; rest here" she whispered very softly. Then she turned from him and left the cabin.


	3. Thorbjorn

Riding pillion back to the palace, Aelfwynn thought about the young Viking. There were so many questions she would have for him. Would he still be there if she managed to sneak out with some food?

Why did she want to help him? All her life she had hated and feared Danes - they had robbed and raped her people for almost a hundred years. Her family had led the fight back, and she was proud of what they had achieved. But this man - who had a name - was injured and needed her help. Had anyone ever needed her help like that before? And he had said he wasn't on a raid. And, and... she had liked him, hadn't she? She had liked his face and how he had smiled at her with his eyes, with that hint of shyness... What would they do to him if he was found? He'd be killed, probably. What else did one do with Northmen?

She passed the rest of that day in a dream. Over dinner she found herself nodding and agreeing with her mother and anyone else who expressed an opinion. Meanwhile she looked at the food and wondered what would be left over, planning what she might take to the injured Northman. But would he be discovered hiding in that shed? It would be one of the first places to look for a fugitive, surely? She prayed silently, "Oh God, please don't let them find him," and wondered again why she should really care that he survive. Was it the man himself, or the fact that she now had a means of secretly defying her parents? She was doing something that they would not approve of. She smiled to herself.

There was no rain the following day. Aelfwynn counted the hours until the afternoon. At morning Mass she prayed for her intentions, wondering whether she was committing some kind of sin, of harbouring an enemy, and whether she should confess it. Eventually she would have to, she supposed, but the priest could not inform anyone so she would be safe. Meanwhile, she must just plan and stay watchful. She had lain in bed last night planning what she should take. Blanket, clean rags, water, food. She slipped on her cloak and left the palace via the herb garden. Headed out to the church she slipped inside it for a few moments. She looked out of the windows to check that no one was following or watching her. Then she headed back to the forest.

For a while she wandered in the direction she thought she had taken the previous day. It was warmer but the weight of her extra load slowed her. There was the hut, partly concealed among the trees. She knocked softly and called "hello?" in a low voice. Then she pushed the door open. He was slumped against the wall, the little bench not long enough for him to lie down. He looked up at her. He seemed weary, as if he'd not slept.  
"I've brought you something to eat ..." she produced bread, cheese and meat, and a honey cake. He reached first for the skin of water she had brought and drank deeply. She noticed the film of sweat on his face. He should really see someone who could help his injury. Aelfwynn know something about tending wounds - her mother had wanted her to be able to help in the aftermath of a battle. Taking a clean rag, she tore a piece from it and wetted it. She pressed it to his forehead. He sighed deeply.  
"We need to look at that wound," she said, surprised at how easily she could make decisions if she had to. "and I've brought you a blanket in case it gets cold in here." She pulled at his boots, his feet seemed reasonably dry.  
"I must thank you, Lady, for your help. I don't know why you give it, I only know that without your help I would have been taken by now and doubtless hanged,"  
She sat down beside him, "I'm not sure either," she admitted, "but I cannot just abandon an injured man."  
"Part of our religion I suppose," he observed, "I never thought I'd be grateful to it, but here I am." He muttered wryly. She gave a short low laugh. "I suppose so. I'm not sure my parents would be proud of me however..."  
"I am guessing you come from the palace over there?"  
"I am Aelfwynn," she said simply, "niece of King Edward. And I have decided to help you."  
"Why?"  
"I have my own reasons... why don't you tell me who you are? I mean where you come from? Are you a Norseman from Ireland? Or a Dane from the Danelaw? Denmark?"  
He shifted slightly, and started eating the honey cake. He must have been very hungry, she noticed and felt pity for this young man, stranded from his home, wherever it was. "I'm actually from Wales," he told her between bites of cake. She noted that he didn't speak and eat at the same time. "My father was a Dane, Jarl Sigefrid, and my mother Eirianwen, a Welsh princess. He met her on a raid and they were together for a while but he had to go away and she never saw him again. I'm said to resemble him in looks."  
"You never knew him then?"  
"No, he was killed fighting your lot. I grew up in the Welsh court. It was assumed that my mother was seized by my father, which may have been true at first. Her people had me brought up as a sort of prince... but... well.... I was never accepted completely. I don't know why I'm telling you all this. It's not very interesting."  
"Oh but it is - I know what it is to feel you don't really belong. My parents.... they treat me like a stupid child one minute, and the next they are trying to arrange a marriage to a piece of land and a bag of gold.." She took the cloth which had held his food and folded it, "At least you could get away..." she added savagely.

He looked at her. "But you're a noble, you can hardly complain. You won't go hungry or cold or die of overwork, will you?" His dark eyes seemed to demand honesty from her. Did he really not see her either?  
She sighed, "You are as bad as they are. You don't understand either. You could leave home, but I can't. I have to do what they say. I have no escape, and no choice." She met his eyes and was dismayed to realise she was looking through a film of tears; she blinked hard, "But no, I won't starve or freeze or wear myself out scrubbing dirty linen."

He gave a nod and fell silent. After a while he said, "I'm sure they'll find you a nice husband. You have a good heart, some nobleman will be grateful for you."  
"They are all so dull.... I could envy your mother, being carried off. I can't imagine anyone at my parents' court having enough imagination to do anything so ... so... wild, so not ordinary."  
He laughed at that. "You are a funny girl," was all he said.  
"Well this funny girl has saved your neck."  
"I didn't say I didn't like you," he picked a stray piece of almond from his clothing and flicked it at her.  
"I'm not sure I like you," she retorted half-playfully, lifting her chin.  
In response, he smiled at her.

All the way home she thought about his smile. It seemed to light up his face, especially his strange slanting eyes, which creased at the edges and softened his whole face. It was only when he smiled that she saw this side of him; there was a hardness to him, as if he'd grown a shell around himself. Hardly surprising if he had, life as a bastard child in a royal court cannot have been easy. He was neither one thing nor another. He seemed a proud person and he did have a natural presence about him, which exuded authority. She could see how frustrating it might have been for him, bearing royal blood, but not somehow equal to the others.

And he had said that any man would be grateful to have her. He appreciated her! She wasn't a nothing to him! And she had even made him smile, even though it hadn't been deliberate. Well, whatever the reason, he had seen her for who she was and he seemed to like her. An idea slowly formed in her mind, if there were such a nobleman in Mercia who wanted her, would she feel the same numbness towards the idea of marriage?

She managed to get out the following day, but it was almost a disaster. She was hurrying through the forest when she saw a group of household guards coming in her direction. She hid quickly and they rode past her. They didn't have a prisoner with them. Had he somehow escaped their notice? She looked around her, ensuring she was alone again and unnoticed, and made her way briskly to the hut. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't there. She noted the blanket in a corner, as if roughly discarded. He had probably run away when the men came. Perhaps his leg was not so painful. She left the basket on the floor in the corner beneath the blanket. It contained food and water and some more clean rags and some salve.

Her heart ached. She longed for his smile again. 

There was nothing to do but head back home. She would try to get away later and see if the food had been touched. 

Meanwhile she would try to find out who his parents really were. The princess Eirianwen could be anyone, there were several Welsh kings and it was hard to know who they were at any one time. But Sigefrid? It wasn't a very common name, she thought, not like Olaf or Sven or Cnut. A simple question to one of her mother's old fighters might do it. She found Osric, who always had time for her. "Have you heard of a Dane called Sigefrid, he would have been around about twenty years ago or so?" Osric thought for a moment, "Bastards have been around a lot longer than that. As far as I know they are all the same. Why do you ask?"  
"I thought I saw an inscription the other day and it seemed a bit odd. It was probably nothing, or I misread it."  
"There's a Danish king in York. But there have always been Vikings in York. Hmmm, come to mention it the name is familiar. Weren't there two of them? The Thurgilson Brothers were called Erik and Sigefrid. But no one would put up an inscription to either of those buggers."  
"I suppose they are long dead,"  
"Oh yes - for a time they were in York and then they went to London, and so on. We are never rid of them, are we? But if you want to talk about them, Uhtred's your man. The old one, that is."

Uncle Uhtred! He would know, of course! He was indeed very old, and many people were afraid of him, he had been such a fearsome warrior, and was still an overpowering figure. Aelfwynn also knew how things were between him and her mother, but he had always been kind to her. She would ask him the next time she saw him.


	4. West Wales: Twenty Years Earlier

The full moon overhead cast a warm glow over the little camp, and its light filtered through the tent's thickness. Eirianwen watched her lover's sleeping face and thought how artless he looked, quite unlike his waking self. This sea wolf who had stolen her from her father's court, and then stolen her heart.

She could have escaped any number of times now he had come to trust her. He had said he loved her, gazing at her through his unknowable slanting black eyes. But she couldn't bring herself to go back and face her kinsfolk and their distress. What would she be returning to anyway? Her old life was gone forever. She had known love in spirit and body and nothing would be the same. Could she now imagine herself being given in marriage to an old, fading warlord; another trophy to add to his hard earned riches, hearth and home with cattle and horses, gold and silver? No, she could not. Even if he would still take her. She would rather go with this half-wild man to an uncertain future.

If she left him now, what would happen to the child growing within her? Her people might reject it, abandoning the poor whelp in the woods for the wolves to gnaw on. She could not bear to think of that. She gazed up at the source of the moonlight and thought of her pagan lover's gods. There was a moon god, chased each night by a wolf, one of Loki's children. No, her own little moonbeam must not die by wolves. She must be strong. 

In the morning they rolled up their tents and packed everything up. This was to be the last camp, because by nightfall, the Northmen had taken the stronghold. It was close enough to the coast to be guaranteed more Norsemen and Danes at intervals, coming from Ireland, who would strengthen the forces. Eirianwen watched from her horse as the victorious sea wolves began moving in. Sigefrid was everywhere, shouting orders and instructions to his men. There would be executions but thankfully they were on the other side of the fortress. She would be spared the sight of her countrymen going to their deaths. Now this was to be her home. 

It would be good to have a home with her lord, at last. But already by the evening feast he was talking about going away on raids again. "But why, Lord, isn't this a good place to be? Can't we enjoy it for a while?" she entreated. He put a rough hand over hers, "You won't be complaining when I make you my queen," he responded in his deep, dark voice. His voice always made her yearn for him. It awoke longings in her that she could never quite get used to. "I am happy just to be your lady, in this place," she assured him. He took another pull at his ale and placed an arm around her shoulders, conscious of his status as lord, and with a real princess at his side. Eirianwen saw his vanity but love made her generous and joyful. 

This was to be the pattern of her life with him. He was restless, never satisfied. More Viking fighters moved in, including Sigefrid's younger brother Erik, newly arrived from Ireland. Eirianwen was surprised by Erik; with his blond hair and light colouring he looked the opposite to his older brother, and indeed he was in character as well. Where Sigefrid was larger than life, quick tempered and impulsive, Erik was thoughtful, more reserved and less quick to anger. She thought he would be good for Sigefrid, but gradually it became clear that as a pair, the brothers were far more effective as Vikings. With Erik's planning and clear sightedness, Sigefrid's ambitions could only get bigger. 

"Now my brother is here, I may be away for some months" He told her one morning. He was sitting up in their new bed, already awake and alert. Eirianwen sleepily traced a finger up the length of his spine, admiring the smooth skin, then following the slight indentation of a scar. His sallow skin looked good on him, made him seem always healthy and well. She came from a race of dark people, he might even be taken for one of her kin, she thought. Yet he was not. He was here to steal and kill and conquer. Well he had begun with her, she was stolen and conquered. Now she must trust him to protect her. She moved under the thick fleeces that covered her bed. "I shall miss you, lord," she said in her halting accent. They spoke the Englisc tongue together, she had learned it while a hostage in Mercia.  
"You will have enough people here to protect you," he said without looking up, "and servants enough - make sure they do as you tell them. Don't be too gentle with them, Eirianwen," he stopped, and added " _cariad_ ," in his slightly husky voice. It was the word she used for him, a Welsh word of love. Dearest. Darling. A wonderful word, which always sounded soft and gentle, however it was said.  
"And if the baby comes while you are away? Do you have any name you like?"  
"Give him a Viking name if he's a boy, if it's a girl I leave the choice to you."  
"Shall it be baptised?"  
"If a boy, no. If a girl, as you wish."  
"I'll call him Sigefrid after you."  
He thought for a moment, "Perhaps not, as Northmen use the father's name after the first name - Sigefrid Sigefridsson sounds a bit too much for a little brat to handle." then seeing her troubled face, he leaned across and stroked her hair fondly, "What matters most to me is your own safety, _cariad_. You must have the best possible care when the time comes." he dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. "And whether it's a boy or a girl, I will be so proud," he added.

She waved to him from the high walkway as he rode out of the fortress. With his brother beside him, he was clearly excited to be off. He turned in his saddle and waved up at her, blowing her a kiss. They gazed into each other's eyes.

It was the last time she saw him.

News came of battles won and lost, a rowdy fortress on the east coast. He had left her plenty of silver but from time to time messengers arrived with more. Always there was a promise to send for her, when it was safe to do so, but it was never safe enough. She called their son Thorbjorn. It was a name she'd heard one of the fighters calling one morning, and she thought it sounded strong. Then after many more months of waiting, she heard of another princess seized by the brothers. Alfred of Wessex was prepared to pay enough for his daughter in ransom to raise a massive army that would sweep the Saxons into the sea and set up the brothers as kings. And this time, Sigefrid had pledged to send for her, and she would be queen, and little Thorbjorn a prince.

Joyfully, she made herself ready to leave at any moment. Finally she would rejoin her sea wolf! And then the message arrived which she had long dreaded: Sigefrid was dead. The messenger had been an eyewitness to the terrible events. Eirianwen wanted to know the full story of how her lover had died and by whom. Then she hid it in her memory for the time when her son would need to know. But for now grief overwhelmed her and she retreated to her chamber to be alone. 

And so died Sigefrid's hopes of power and glory, and along with it, all Eirianwen's own hopes of a lasting home with the man she had loved.

With Sigefrid gone, the Vikings established a new leader in the Welsh stronghold and there was no place in it anymore for Eirianwen and her little son.

So she went back to her people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eirianwen is pronounced Eye-ree-an-wen


	5. The Feast

"You've been in better spirits lately, daughter, so you may be pleased to know that there will be another big feast. You will get the chance to wear one of your new robes." Aethelflaed found her daughter with her ladies, adding some stitches to a new embroidery. Aelfwynn considered for a moment. Her mother had noticed something different about her.  
"That will be nice," she said flatly and looked up at her mother, who frowned slightly. This wasn't the response Aethelflaed had been expecting. "Well there will be a chance to get to know Edric better, or decide if there is anyone else you might consider." She said briskly and left the room. 

Aelfwynn sighed. Her mother was always so purposeful - she had come to see her purely to warn her that decision time was nigh. Well it might have to be.... A few days earlier Aelfwynn had returned to the hut in the forest to check her basket. Its contents had been removed but there was no sign of Thorbjorn. She had a feeling that he had gone, but she refilled the basket just in case. When she returned the next day, the contents were still there. Most likely his companions had found him and taken him away. Aelfwynn felt she should be pleased. She'd helped someone and he had clearly survived her aid and avoided the search party from the palace. So, she must just make the most of the Mercian lads after all and pray that she didn't have to end up with an old man with bad breath. She reflected with a sense of sadness that she was unlikely to see Thorbjorn ever again.

 

Rarely had Aelfwynn seen her mother so intent on organising, she seemed never to stand still. When the guests began to arrive it was not hard to see her motive. As well as the Mercian nobility and local thegns, Uhtred the elder had arrived with his son and some of his war band. As usual, Uhtred was the centre of her mother's attention and it was going to be difficult to have a quiet moment to ask him a sensitive question about events of long ago. But he would have had men with him who, if still alive, might also help her. Aelfwynn recognised Osferth, her mother's half brother, who had chosen fighting over a monastic life. He still had a look of the monk about him. He was also said to resemble her grandfather very strongly. Alfred had been embarrassed by Osferth's existence, but his bastard son had proved himself on his own merits so often that people no longer thought much about his origins. He was simply Osferth, and a good egg.

With a start, Aelfwynn realised that Osferth had been with Uhtred for as long as anyone. He might know something about Lord Sigefrid. 

It wasn't hard to corner her half-uncle. He never cut a very significant figure, unlike Uhtred who dominated every room simply by being present in it. She brought him into her mother's study where they could talk freely. He considered her question for a moment. "That was a long time ago, why would you want to know?" He seemed guarded, wary. Why?  
"I heard his name recently and felt there was a story to it. Weren't there two brothers? Please tell me what Sigefrid was like. I'd heard he was a rather romantic person."  
"Sigefrid? You must need your ears cleaning, niece. He was one of the most brutal and violent men I've ever come across."  
Aelfwynn blanched, this was not what she was expecting. "That can't be true..." she whispered.  
"I swear to you it is. I remember him clearly. Very dark he was, like the devil, with black eyes and a deep voice. He crucified priests just because he hated Our Lord. It was I who killed him..." The memory of this made the corners of his mouth twitch, giving the hint of a smile. "He deserved it, he had just killed his brother who was as unlike him as any man can be."  
"Was he also dark?" asked Aelfwynn, wondering if Thorbjorn was wrong and the other brother was his father.  
"No, he was fair with the bluest eyes I've ever seen. Uhtred was saddened at his death because the two had come to understand and like each other."  
"I heard about a brother. Why did they fight?"  
Osferth shifted uneasily and Aelfwynn realised that he was unwilling to talk. "I don't mind if it's about women," she said, thinking that his bastardy might make him shy of discussing certain things.  
"It was," he said readily, "they fell out over a woman. The brother had fallen in love and Sigefrid was angry with him."  
"Was she Welsh, by any chance?"  
Osferth's brows crinkled, "No, why would you think that?"  
"I heard a rumour about a Welsh princess, but that it was Sigefrid who fell in love. You haven't heard anything like that?"  
"No, I haven't, but perhaps it's true..." Osferth was clearly anxious to end the conversation and return to the guests. Why did Aelfwynn think that he was not being truthful? He had discounted the idea of a Welsh princess and then pretended to consider it... What was he hiding? Perhaps he himself had fallen in love about that time and was keeping it a dark secret? As he left the study, Aelfwynn said in confirmation "So this Sigefrid wasn't a nice man?"  
"No, he was the worst," was the hasty reply as Osferth moved away quickly. Suddenly he checked himself and looked back at his niece. "Sometimes it's best to let the past stay there; there are some things that are best forgotten, Aelfwynn." he gave her a serious look and then was gone.

It was all so confusing. Osferth had clearly tried to warn her about talking of the brothers and she had a suspicion that there was more that he wasn't telling her. But she had at least confirmed that Sigefrid did exist. He must have died before he could join Thorbjorn's mother. Or had he simply abandoned her? And could it be that both brothers had fallen in love with her, fought and died for love? Aelfwynn furrowed her brows in thought. The brothers did at least sound more interesting than any number of dull Mercian nobles.

She moved back to the guests as if in a trance. Hearing about Sigefrid - at least Osferth's opinion of Sigefrid - was a shock. She wasn't expecting to hear such a strongly damning judgment on the father of a man she had come to feel was a good person. One thing was certain though - Sigefrid had not married the Welsh princess, nor did it seem that he had made the relationship known. He must have simply abandoned them. Would his son inherit anything more than his father's looks? Could it be that he also was cruel and thoughtless? Perhaps it was best that she would never see him again.

Her heart felt a pang of sadness, nonetheless.

 

The great hall was filled with a forest of candles whose golden light illuminated the faces of the people at dinner. Great trenchers of meat were placed at intervals on the long tables, steaming and carved straight from the roasted ox, pig or sheep. There was also fowl for those with delicate stomachs. Aelfwynn noted that her father stuck to game. He sat staring ahead, sipping constantly from his cup of wine. She wondered if he really was in constant pain. It was interesting, she thought, how people always looked at her mother with such admiration and ignored him. How she had seized victories time and again from almost certain defeat. Yet Aethelred was in his own way also admirable. He did actually fight rather than ordering other people onto the field and strutting around behind the lines in fancy armour. Aelfwynn had never really tried to understand her father and the two had little to say to each other over the years. Perhaps he wasn't entirely to blame for her parents' uneasy marriage. Her mother was so strong, so determined, she could be a difficult companion in daily life. 

Aelfwynn watched her mother as she sat at table beside her husband, ignoring him and talking to Uhtred on her other side. How animated she looked; the candlelight softened her features, made her seem younger, the little lines around her mouth and eyes were not noticeable in the low light. One of her priests interjected a comment and Aethelflaed immediately paid attention. She dressed simply as a good daughter of the Church but the little jewelled reliquary cross on her chest was very fine and the stones gleamed in the candlelight. She always wore it. It contained a tiny piece of bone from St Werberga, one of her favourite saints. In time it would pass to Aelfwynn who would then always wear a piece of the saint next to her breast, in memory of her mother.

Aelfwynn had a sudden mischievous thought, that she might go back to the woodcutter's hut and find that small piece of nut which Thorbjorn had thrown at her. Perhaps she could put it into a reliquary and wear it around her neck, in memory of him? It would honour the only remembrance she would ever have of an interesting young man who had treated her like a sensible person. That would be a sort of relic, wouldn't it? A relic of a moment stolen from a dreary life....

Further down the table she noticed her young cousin Aethelstan, the eldest son of her uncle King Edward, Alfred's oldest son. Her mother was bringing him up in her own court and he was thriving. All Alfred's children were special, her mother maintained. There was certainly something special about Aethelstan, although he was said to be a bastard and not eligible to take the throne. Her mother maintained that Edward had married Aethelstan's mother in haste, but she had died and any proof was long gone. Aelfwynn thought how often the bastard children were the more interesting and capable. Osferth, who was so clever and brave, Aethelstan, a handsome and intelligent boy who already showed leadership. And then there was Thorbjorn, son of the mysterious Sigefrid. What qualities did Thorbjorn have? Perhaps he had the lot, she thought impishly. He was clever, brave, handsome, intelligent and a leader of men. Well it did no harm to imagine, since she would never know the real truth.

It was a warm night and the guests spilled out to enjoy the night air. Aelfwynn stepped out in the hope of getting away from the endless chatter of people who have eaten and drunk too much. She looked for her father, who was too frail to take much exercise, but he seemed to have left already. Probably headed for his bed. She hoped he could find freedom from pain at least in sleep. She knew her mother did not approve of heavy drinking, regarding it as a crutch for the weak. Her mother did seem to approve of Uhtred however, as she kept him beside her, engaging him in constant conversation. Did her really care about her designs for a new burh? It appeared so, and Aelfwynn caught snatches of their talk: fortifications, palisades, guard towers. These things were necessary, but were they _interesting_ she wondered?

The moon was almost full and she wandered through the herb garden, brushing past aromatic plants to make them release their scent and heading for the orchard. She might not be noticed there. The fruit wasn't ready, but there was promise of good things to come. She liked trees, they had a calming effect on her. What was that pagan symbol of the tree of life? Aelfwynn was drawn to many of the symbols of the old pagan religion which could still be found if you knew where to look. Runes on a ship, for instance, carved for protection. And sometimes in the forest she came upon small shrines which looked as if they were not made for saints. It didn't matter whether or not the old myths were true, there was a deep beauty to all these things which made them interest her and they had a meaning and a simple wisdom of their own. Valour, courage, loyalty, all these things were what made men great.

She heard a rustling and feared that her solitude was broken. Taking a deep breath she turned to face the unwanted intruder. Instead, from among the trees a young man stepped into the dappled moonlight, he had a slight limp, she noticed and had placed one hand on a tree to steady himself. It was Thorbjorn.  
"How did you get here?" she gasped.  
He gave a little bow, "It would have been rude not to thank you in person for all you have done for me. We heard there was to be a celebration so I thought I would join you." He shot her that familiar smile, part impish, part joyous.  
"You'll be in trouble if they find you...."  
"Well they'd better not then. One of my companions is among the servers, they needed extra help tonight, so he managed to find work. The other is further back with our horses."  
"And these are Vikings? Won't your friend stand out among the servants?"  
"He blends right in - both of them are more Welsh than anything else. I think I give them a bad name," he gave that little smile again. She looked down, "How is your leg? I hope it stopped bleeding. You were in a bad way."  
"It's not too bad. Rest, ale and pies will work wonders. We will head off tomorrow back to Wales where I can get someone to look at my wound."

So they would be leaving, and there were so many things she wanted to ask him, how to begin? They walked slowly through the orchard to where the willow fence marked the edge of the palace grounds. Thorbjorn opened the gate and led her through. There was a little clearing and a coppice; further in they came to some tree stumps. They chose the two closest together to sit on. "It's a lovely night for stargazing," he said, "my mother loves the night sky."  
"The princess? What happened to her after your father left? Your story is so interesting, I hope you won't mind my asking you about it."  
He sighed, "We went back to my grandfather's court and they pretended nothing had happened. Really they were just relieved. My mother was always the peacemaker in the family and they had missed her. She was careful what she told them and they thought she'd been a captive."  
"But what about you?"  
"I was about three years old and already quite boisterous. They thought I'd make a good warrior so they let people think my mother was a widow. Most people of course knew the truth, but in time they came to accept things. Life is different in the Welsh courts, there are a lot of people wanting power and land, and not everyone can have it. Good fighters are valuable."  
"But what happened to your mother? Did she remarry?"  
"She did, eventually, and gave me three half-siblings. We are a dark-skinned family so I don't look very different from them. Perhaps that's why I dress the Viking way. I am different, I feel it, and so why lie about it?"  
"After what you told me in the hut I tried to find out more about your father. It seems he was considered cruel and violent. But...." she noticed him looking uncomfortable, "he sounds a lot more interesting than the men in my parents' court. He can't have been that bad if your mother liked him."  
"He disappointed her I think. She doesn't speak much about him."  
"No, I couldn't get anyone to talk much at all. It's very strange, I was warned not to ask any more questions. It seems there is some sort of mystery that no one wants to mention. I wonder what it is?"

They were silent for a moment, enjoying the peacefulness of the night air. In the distance, the sounds of her mother's guests could be heard. It had been a good feast and people were still enjoying themselves. She hoped that no one was looking for her, perhaps an ealdorman on the hunt for a potential spouse for his spotty son. She glanced at Thorbjorn, noting how he kept an almost expressionless look, as if he didn't want people to know what he was feeling. She could sense that his caution wasn't natural to him, he had learned to keep his thoughts to himself. He turned to look at her and she saw how his dark eyes glittered in the moon's light. They were black - what was it Osferth had said? Like the devil? He didn't seem very devil-like, sitting quietly next to her.

"I didn't just want to thank you," he said and suddenly looked a lot less confident. Aelfwynn noticed how his Welsh accent became stronger. "I'm glad you came back," she said, "I wanted so much to know you were going to be all right, and were safe."  
"I'm still not sure why you would help me," he admitted. "I've brought you a gift by way of thanks. You don't have to take it, if you think it not proper." He held out his hand and dropped something into her palm. It glinted in the pale light. A small golden cross with the figure of Christ etched onto it. Around it was the most exquisite detailing. "It's Welsh gold," he told her.  
"I love it, thank you." she said simply. It was small enough that she could put it onto a chain with other jewels, so it wasn't so noticeable. Her mother was usually far too busy to notice things like jewellery anyway.  
"I suppose your father was a pagan?" she turned the bright gold cross with her fingers.  
"He was and he didn't want me baptised, but the court put a lot of pressure on my mother and, since my father wasn't coming back, they made me a Christian," he explained. Well, it would have helped him fit in, she thought.

"I didn't just want to thank you," he said again.  
Almost shyly he placed a hand over hers. "Since that day when I met you in the hut, I've not been able to stop thinking about you. I had to see you again. You're so beautiful - and even if you are Saxon and royal, I don't want to think of us as enemies."  
No one had ever told Aelfwynn that she was beautiful before. Tiresome, difficult, stubborn, but never a beauty. How could he think so?  
"How do I know you are not being your father's son? Can I really trust you?" she squeezed the little cross in her fist as if to convince herself that no liar would give her anything like that. He gave her another smile, and as it reached his eyes, she saw that an expression of gentleness replaced the usual hardness. "I will just have to prove it to you," he said simply. "Look, my friend is beyond with horses. If I wished I could just scoop you up and carry you off. Have I done that?"  
"I would cry for help and they would come running,"  
"If they could reach you in time, which I doubt. Look, I'm not going to do anything like that. For one thing I wouldn't want to upset the goddess of these woods." He gave a low laugh. Aelfwynn looked puzzled, "You said you were baptised, and you gave me a cross. How can you believe in woodland spirits?"  
"Because I have seen you, little elf. Isn't that what your name means? Elf joy. When I first saw you I thought you looked like a wood sprite, with your golden hair and fair skin. You know you look exactly like a fairy, small, slight and not quite of this earth. I still can't quite believe you are real."  
Aelfwynn was astonished and couldn't reply. Instead she looked up at him. She didn't resist when he slowly and gently drew her towards him. She raised her face towards his and let him kiss her. His mouth felt soft framed by his rough beard. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, letting him lead.

She lay in bed unable and unwilling to sleep. He had come back for her! He had called her beautiful and smiled his wonderful radiant smile.... and he had kissed her in the moonlight and called her a fairy. Was it all real? How could she make all that up? And the gift he had put into her hand.... it must be something of his own that he always wore and he had wanted her to have it. Welsh gold was highly prized, she knew. The little cross had probably been a baptismal gift from someone important, perhaps the king his grandfather. She had saved his life, after all. 

Eventually she had had to leave him and return to her mother's guests. But she didn't mind too much. They would meet tomorrow by the little hut. There was more she wanted to ask him, but it could wait.


	6. Secrets and Lies

It was 'their' hut now wasn't it? She had warned him that it might be difficult sneaking away, because she had to make sure she wasn't being watched. Fortunately it was the day after the night before and many people, including her mother, would be feeling tired with ale-sore heads. Uncle Uhtred had no doubt been keeping her mother company all last night so she wouldn't be especially watchful of her daughter.

There were fewer people at morning Mass and with all the extra guests sleeping in the palace and the general air of tiredness, Aelfwynn managed to slip outside with no one to ask her where she was going. It would be terrible if she was caught, and he was caught, just as he was about to return home. But there he was. Thorbjorn was standing beside the hut talking a companion. They had two horses with them. It was a pleasant scene. Thorbjorn looked up as she appeared and nodded to his friend who wandered away with one of the horses. He took two steps towards her, caught her in his arms and kissed her cheek. "All well?"  
"They're all sleeping it off, I think. We had a lot of people staying but it's all confusion and chaos, so I'm safe for a while. No one will miss me."  
"I would miss you.... I will miss you." He looked into her eyes and smoothed a stray lock of hair from her face. "I wish you could come with me, you wanted to be carried off, didn't you?" He sounded half-serious.  
She sighed, "Perhaps you could come to meet my parents? Let your hair grow out a bit, tell them you are a Welsh prince. That might work...."  
He laughed, "I suppose so. I dress as a Northman partly to annoy my family, it's true, but also because I am not exactly like them. I doubt your parents would consider me suitable even if I draped myself in gold and velvet. I can't offer you anything. Besides..... you might decide you don't want anything more to do with me." He looked hesitant. When she looked up at him, his face was a mask, grave and inscrutable. "Why, what have you not told me?"  
"Last night you mentioned a mystery concerning my father and his brother. I have thought about it and am fairly certain I know the truth. But I am not sure you will like it. It's no doubt why no one would tell you very much." He looped his horse's reins over his arm and led Aelfwynn away from the hut and they walked along the forest path together.  
"I'm confused. Why should I be unhappy about things that happened before I was born? Besides, whatever it was, you and I are not to blame.."  
"No of course not. But you might still be angry with me if I tell you. Perhaps that would not matter since I must go away soon... but I don't want you to hate me." He stopped and looked down at her, his eyes full of uncertainty.  
"Please tell me anyway, if it concerns me. I can't see why I should be angry with you."  
He sighed deeply and looked troubled. "Let's sit down on that log. And stop me if you need to. I'm afraid you might be very upset by it."  
"Me? Why? How can two dead brothers have the power to cause me distress?"  
"It's a sad story and it concerns your family too. You sure you want to know?" He deliberately placed his hands on his knees and sat at a slight distance from her. Aelfwynn reached out and touched his arm. "Tell me" she whispered.  
"Your parents were newly married and your father kept your mother close by even when he was fighting. Erik found out where she was and thought of a plan to kidnap her, demanding a vast ransom from your father and grandfather. That way the brothers could build a huge army to conquer the four kingdoms."  
"Kidnap my mother? How have I never heard of this? What happened to her?"  
"He carried her from the camp and kept her prisoner in the Viking base at Beamfleot. The original place is now a ruin, but it was once a great stronghold. Well the two of them fell in love and decided to run away and start a new life together, but my father found out about it and killed his brother. He was angry that Erik would give up the ransom money so easily. Erik had been in secret contact with Alfred's men and they did manage to get your mother out of there but there was a battle and my father was killed. Your mother went back to her family, but I imagine she never spoke about what happened."  
Aelfwynn was astonished. Her mother, in love with a Dane? Could it be true?  
"How do you know all this?" she asked.  
"My mother had expected to join my father once the army had overrun the south. But a messenger arrived with the news that he had been killed. The messenger had been a fighter living at Beamfleot and he knew all about the hostage. I used to ask my mother about my father all the time and eventually she told me what she knew."

Aelfwynn was silent and thoughtful. Now she understood why Osferth was so reticent to tell her more than a little of the truth. But he couldn't resist telling her that he had killed Sigefrid so it must have been Uhtred's band which had led the rescue! So Uhtred would probably have taken her mother back to Wessex. All these secrets, who else knew about them? Perhaps that was the reason for the coldness between her parents, assuming her father knew of all this.  
"I hope you haven't found it too distressing.... I didn't want to tell you anything that might upset you. It might be a good idea not to tell your mother that you know. If she hasn't told you, then she doesn't want you to know."  
In response, Aelfwynn laid her head against Thorbjorn's shoulder. She wanted his arms around her again. Thoughts and emotions began to wash through her. Her poor mother, losing her lover like that! What if she had run away with this Erik? Would Aelfwynn never have been born? She knew she was Aethelred's child, she had the same crooked little finger and the same fine hair.  
"Your mother and mine were both carried off," her voice was muffled by the fabric of his cloak.  
"It does seem to be a family tradition," he agreed.  
"How's your leg?"  
"Not too bad. I can lift it a bit now," he straightened his leg and raised it.  
"You couldn't do that a week ago,"  
"Thanks to you I can now." he sighed and tightened his arms around her, "I'm so glad you aren't upset with me. I thought you'd be very distressed."  
"I'll probably feel sadder when I've thought more about it. I just feel so sorry for my mother and that poor man who died trying to get her away. He must have been a remarkable person for her to have loved him. Thank you for telling me. I am glad I know."

Relief washed over him, "Anyway it was all so long ago. Now the world is ours. I want to sit here just listening to you speak and holding you. I've never met anyone like you, _cariad_." he gazed into her eyes, " _Rydych yn hardd..._ " he muttered, dropping a kiss on the end of her nose.  
"Is that Welsh?"  
"It means you're beautiful..."  
"That's lovely, and how nice your voice sounds when you speak it.... I wonder if Erik spoke Danish love words to my mother?"  
"Probably, though I expect it sounded more like a pig grunting."  
She giggled and turned her face to his, closing her eyes as their lips met. Who knew that kissing could take up so much time? she thought, much later.

 

"Aelfwynn, I need to speak to you.... Come to my study, now, please. No don't walk away, this is important." Aethelflaed looked sternly at her daughter. Aelfwynn didn't much care. She had spent a heavenly morning with Thorbjorn and had persuaded him to stay in the town. She couldn't just let him go, not after what had happened between them. But having been in Thorbjorn's arms, and hearing him say all those wonderful things had made her care less what her mother might think of her. She felt as if she was surrounded by an invisible shield and realised that this shield was joy.

Once inside the little library her mother turned to face her. The jewelled cross on her chest seemed accusing in its holiness. But what did Aelfwynn care? No one knew her secret, and certainly not her mother.

"I was very disappointed in you last night," Aethelflaed began. Aelfwynn thought wryly that 'I was disappointed in you' was always considered the worst thing that Alfred could ever say to his children. He had never chastised them, but his gentle reproofs could bring them to tears. Disappointing him was something none of them could bear to think of, such was their love and loyalty to him. But his eldest daughter wasn't Alfred. Aelfwynn crossed her arms and looked sullenly back. "I was there, wasn't I? And I talked to people."  
"You spoke as little as possible and then you disappeared for a long time. I suppose you went off on one of your sulks. You know I spent a lot of time and silver on that feast and I had expected you to make more effort in connection with your marriage plans. You must marry, daughter, it is just a matter of who. And if you don't make the decision I will make it for you."  
"Why do I have to choose between so many dull people? Why can't you widen the choice - to include people not from Mercia?" Aelfwynn suddenly had a mischievous thought which she couldn't quench, "Some Danes, perhaps? It might be a good idea to forge new alliances."  
Aethelflaed's expression became icy, "Are you quite stupid? You stand there and seriously mention the idea that one of Alfred's grandchildren could marry a pagan. Have I taught you so little?"  
"Well you don't seem to mind spending time with pagans if it is Uhtred, do you? " Aelfwynn could not help saying.  
"Lord Uhtred is an ealdorman and a great warrior. He's not some pig sacrificing savage with a taste for killing Christians. I wish you would grow up and understand your duties,"  
"Duties? You mean you want me to do whatever you say. Have you never wondered what I might want?" Aelfwynn could hardly believe what was coming out of her mouth, but love made her bold.  
"It does not matter what you want. You are not some village girl with a crush on the baker's boy, you are a member of a royal house. You live in a palace with servants, you eat the finest foods and wear the best cloth -" Aethelflaed was trying to calm her daughter down and her voice softened, but the hard edge was still there, " but all this comes at a price..."  
"Well perhaps I don't want to live in this way anymore. Perhaps I never did."  
"Fine. You can go to a nunnery. I'll arrange it and you can be gone by next week."  
"You do that! I'll run away and I'll have the life I want to live. And you won't have to worry about me anymore."  
"And where will you go, child? Where is your silver and land? What will you eat? How will you live?"

Her mother was right. There was nothing she could do but give in, again. They would win in the end. Aelfwynn felt a wave of misery and frustration. Thorbjorn had told her owned nothing and couldn't provide for her, but they might possibly live at his grandfather's court. He had warned her that it was nothing like what she was used to, that she would find it hard. If only her mother could understand! Her parents had property in their gift, it would be nothing to them to give her and Thorbjorn a place to live. It suddenly occurred to her that her mother might even sympathise, having once loved a Dane herself.  
"I have no land or silver, but what I do have is more precious," she began tentatively. Her mother's expression seemed less hostile, so Aelfwynn went on, "I have found someone I think I would like to marry. At least, he pleases me and I please him..."  
"Who is he?" Her mother's voice was gentle.  
"I met him only recently but - oh mother, he fills my heart with joy! He has royal blood too. But he's not a Mercian, nor from Wessex. He comes from Wales.... and his father was a Dane...."  
"A Welsh-Dane? Really? Does he wear clothes and speak Englisc? Perhaps he decorates his hair with pieces of his mother's rib as well? You dare to stand there and speak of love for some, savage, while rejecting the good Christian men of noble birth and education that are being offered to you!"  
"He's not a savage! And he is as Christian as you and me. His grandfather is a king and he's handsome and charming and clever and he makes me laugh. And he loves me."  
"Of course he does you foolish child. But he's nothing, and he will never be anything. Now stop this nonsense and start to think sensibly."  
"I'm not a foolish child any longer! You think you can just brush aside my feelings as if they don't matter. Well they do matter, to me. And I was hoping they would matter to you as well. Didn't you once, ever, feel things that were nothing to do with Mercia and Wessex? With burhs and hideages and armies? Did any man ever gaze at you and call you beautiful as he did to me this morning? He cares about me even if you do not! And yes, I want to be with him even if he is a savage and a Dane! I'd run away just to be with him if I had to. When you were my age, did you never think of love?"

Of course Aelfwynn knew the answer to her question but she wanted to see if her mother still had any spark of human feeling behind the elegant robe and that jewelled cross. For a moment her mother looked as if she might break, a shadow passed across her face, but then it was gone and she was herself again, brisk and in control.  
"So you've been seeing him in secret? Deceiving us no doubt. I hope you haven't let him touch you."  
"I wish I had! But he's honourable, and he will do nothing to harm me."  
"Does he have a name?"  
"He is Thorbjorn Siegfridsson. He's also known as Huwel, the name he was given at baptism...."

Her mother's expression suddenly went ashen and her face blanched. She stared for a moment at her daughter and then said quietly. "Enough. Leave me now. I will hear no more."

Suddenly realising her mistake, Aelfwynn left her mother at once. Oh how stupid of her to blurt out that hated name! It would be only a while before Aethelflaed must learn that Aelfwynn was in love with the son of the very person her mother must hate most. Her lover's killer.


	7. Forever Young

In a moment the moon would be out and the world, with its voices, would go to rest and be silent again. Her stupid, silly daughter could not be blamed for what she had done. More than ever Aethelflaed longed for her father, to hear his beloved voice, though she knew what he would say: the answer will lie in prayer. But not even her father had known the secret that lay on her heart.

Literally. 

Aethelflaed made her way quickly to the little stone chapel, passing the few grave markers that were scattered around it, like chicks round a mother hen. The church was her refuge, God always gave her strength. 

All those long years with Aethelred, trying to be a good wife, trying to forget it had ever happened. And with time she had, almost, forgotten. She knelt before the altar and bowed her head, shut her eyes and concentrated. After all this time she could hardly remember his face, and that made her saddest of all. It seemed like a betrayal, suddenly. His face, his arms, his beautiful voice with just that hint of an accent that she had found so lovable. She may not remember his face very clearly but she could recall how it felt to be loved by him.

What was that her daughter said? The young man with the ugly name had gazed at her and called her beautiful.... Aeflwynn had uttered that as a challenge, hadn't she? And just at that moment Aethelflaed saw his face clearly in her mind. They had been sitting alone together under the full moon, prisoner and jailer, enjoying the night air. Suddenly he had touched her cheek with his sword hand, and gazed at her wonderingly.

 _He had never seen a face like hers before, he saw it even when he closed his eyes_. Then he had turned away suddenly, the envy he felt of her husband was too painful. Oh she recalled it vividly now.... the way his face changed when she told him haltingly how her husband ignored her, the glimmer of hope that turned to something more when she confessed her loveless marriage. _He must be blind... or stupid...._

He could have forced her at any time, claimed her for his use. Instead, despite his longing and his loneliness, he had shyly waited to know her heart. Yes, she had given herself to him freely and joyfully, with never a thought of Mercia or Wessex or armies or fortifications. _You are precious, lady....._ All he had wanted was her, and he had given her his whole heart in return. More than that, he had healed her of the anguish of her terrible marriage. 

_Oh God, forgive me, I loved him so..._

Gently she unpinned the little reliquary cross and turned it over. It had not been opened for some time and the hinge was stiff. Reluctant perhaps to reveal the treasure inside. There was the tiny piece of St Werberga's ankle bone, and under it, like a soft cushion, a small tuft of hair. She had taken it from his beard as his hair was too tightly bound. She didn't even know why she had done it as they expected to be together forever and then she would have all of him, not just a little piece of hair. 

She rubbed her thumb and finger together, feeling the texture. Her long-gone lover. Burned to ashes in the fire, a blackened hand still holding his charred and bent sword. This small fragment was all that was left of him. The man whose heart had beat so strong against hers, whose warm skin had comforted her when she lay in his arms. He had shown her how love could be, gentle and kind and joyful. 

"No one must ever know about you and Erik," Uhtred had declared as he had borne her away from the ruins of Beamfleot and her shattered hopes. She had cried and sobbed and wailed in his arms until she thought she would have no more tears left, but still they came. She wept all the way back to Mercia and her husband's house. Aethelred had not noticed her swollen and red face. He was only glad that his unborn child had survived.

The child that would be Aelfwynn. Aethelflaed had carried her throughout her imprisonment, making it impossible for her to conceive by mistake. She would never have Erik's baby, but at least it had made it simpler for them to be lovers.

Had she really more tears to shed, after so many years? She thought she had cried them all on that terrible journey home and here she was in this silent church, weeping all over again for the love she had lost. Her beloved Dane, her soul's joy. How could one ever forget that kind of grief? The prospect of life without him had seemed so bleak and sunless. She had learned that it is possible to survive, that although mourning must end, grief never goes away. One learns to live with it.

She and Aethelred had come together again; after her return he was not as brutal as before but with the birth of their daughter he lost interest in his two women. It had been a difficult birth - if only Erik had been there to hold her hand! - and so she had insisted that there should be no more children. She let it be known that a king's daughter may forego the delights of the marriage bed; it was not seemly for her to indulge the flesh when there was a kingdom to win.

How ridiculously self-important and pompous it now sounded. Would she ever have used those words with Erik as her consort? Of course not! She'd have expected him to warm her bed every night and in his arms she would have conceived many sons and daughters. 

Gently she kissed the few strands of hair and slid them back into the little cross, securing the cover. It had been her secret all these years and she would die with that cross in her hand. The secret sorrow that lay on her heart would die with her.

And she would wake and join him, wherever he was: heaven or Valhalla. They would never be parted again.


	8. Uneasy Truce

Looking at her mother the following day, Aelfwynn found it hard to imagine her planning to run away with a Northman. Yet, according to Thorbjorn, she had. Uhtred was preparing to leave with some of his war band and her mother was fussing around him. Aelfwynn had the feeling that they were no longer lovers, but there was clearly still a bond. Uhtred was her oath man and his loyalty was as strong as ever. The way he looked at her mother showed his deep admiration for her. If she was ever jealous of his other women Aethelflaed didn't seem to show it now. Perhaps that's how old people became, Awlfwynn thought.

If she married Thorbjorn, would they also become like old friends, putting up with little irritations, but living in a sort of dozy companionship? If her mother had run away with her Viking lover, would they, too, have become ordinary? 

She thought a lot about this. There was no reason for her father to have known, and every reason for Aethelflaed to have kept it quiet. Uhtred would know. "I haven't spoken to you much and I would be sad if you went without talking to me," she said to him in her most babyish voice. He gave a benevolent look and made a little sigh, as if weighing up the amount of time he would need before he could reasonably get rid of her. She led him into the herb garden and sat down on a small bench made entirely of earth, with herbs growing from it. They gave off their scent as Uhtred's weight bruised them. After a few short sentences about nothing in particular, Aelfwynn began to speak about the events at Beamfleot, all those years ago. "I know it must have been you who rescued her, so don't deny it" she told him.

Uhtred sighed and shifted his weight. "How did you hear about this?" he asked evasively. So she told him about Thorbjorn. She could tell that he was surprised as he turned his head to look at her, his blue eyes intent. "I knew nothing about a Welsh princess or a son, Sigefrid must have kept it quiet.... Your mother won't be very happy about your love for this young man," he warned.  
"No, but then if this is all true, she fell in love with a Viking and a pagan even. And she was already married to my father. Tell me, does he know about this?"  
"No, and you must not mention it to him. When I took her from that place, I swore that no one would ever know about her and Erik. She was pregnant with you all the time," he reached out and took her hand, "and in great distress..."  
"Did she really love this man or had he just influenced her? I have always felt that my parents were not particularly fond of each other. I had been wondering if it was because of Beamfleot."  
"No, that is not true. Your parents were married to seal an alliance although there was never any great love between them. This sometimes happens, and it is no one's fault. Whatever you may think of your mother, she has been a good wife."  
"I know. In a way I think more highly of her to know that she once thought of giving up everything for love, and she would have, wouldn't she? Everyone would have disowned her. Was it real love or was she simply under this man's spell?"  
"They were both very much in love," he said slowly, his eyes unfocused as he remembered those days. "They asked me to help them escape together, and I did everything I could to try to persuade them that it was hopeless, that they would have no peace. Imagine - your grandfather and your father both tracking them down, and Sigefrid, angry at the lost ransom, also determined to punish his brother. And where would they go? They had nothing."  
Aelfwynn watched a small beetle climb along a stalk, the morning air was fresh and the herby scent pleasant. How good it was to sit outside with this nice old man whom she had known all her life.  
"What was he like?" she asked at length, wondering if Erik was at all like Thorbjorn.  
"I liked him - he was at heart a good man caught up in something he could not control. He wouldn't let her go - "I cannot give her up" he insisted to me. I'll never forget the way he looked, desperate, determined. He adored her. He was prepared to betray his brother, give up the ransom and leave with nothing. For a Viking that is no small thing, they regard reputation is the most important thing, but for him not even that mattered compared with losing her. After he was killed your mother wept for him, not caring who heard her. A terrible keening that pierced the soul. I have never heard anyone grieve so hard. It's difficult to look at her now and imagine how she was in those days."  
"I hope she didn't resent me too much," Aelfwynn said thoughtfully.  
He gave her chin a playful pinch, "I should think you were a consolation," he said softly. She leaned against him, savouring the strength which seemed to come from him. "Aelfwynn, don't tell her you know.." He murmured.  
"But if she finds out about Thorbjorn's father, she will be bound to realise that I know something. It's hard to hide a story like this, and I'm not blaming her at all. I know what it is to have found love in an unexpected place."  
"Your mother has borne this alone for many years - I don't want her troubled now. Are you really sure about this man? Wouldn't it be better for you to find someone with a similar background to your own? Make her proud, Aelfwynn! She has sacrificed so much."

So that was it. He was on _her_ side, she might have known he would be. "You are like the rest of the people in this place," she said slowly, "you don't care about what I want."

And, sliding off the turf seat, she made her way back to the palace.

"Aelfwynn... Uhtred! There you are!" Aethelflaed turned instantly from her daughter to her oldest friend as he appeared through the doorway, "I was wondering where you'd got to."  
"We've had a little time together, that's all," Uhtred said softly, giving Aelfwynn a fatherly pat on the shoulder. Aelfwynn could tell from her face that her mother was hoping he'd been talking about her responsibilities. 

Why did they all make her feel like a helpless child caught in events she couldn't be expected to understand? Aelfwynn had no doubt that Uhtred had spoken entirely with her mother's interests in mind. He, too, did not consider her own happiness. All this talk of duty! Well her grandfather was dead now, and whatever bond he had with her mother was gone. Just because her mother sacrificed her own happiness in marrying a man she didn't care for did not mean that her daughter should do the same. 

Uhtred and his companions mounted their horses and Aelfwynn watched as they said their goodbyes. Her mother was so controlled, so intent. She acted as though she had never had an indecisive thought, or done something she would regret. She issued orders and people obeyed. Her heart must have turned to stone thought her daughter. 

"Well my heart is not going to turn into a solid rock just for Wessex and Mercia", she thought. "Let my uncle Edward worry about who rules Mercia when the time comes. They don't need me to decide its fate. And there's always Aethelstan, he would make a splendid ruler. He's like my mother, he always knows what to do, and people listen to him. Well, they wouldn't obey me. Look how my mother immediately turned her attention from me to Uhtred just now."


	9. The Fair

The midsummer fair brought much excitement among the local people. It was a chance for people to forget their daily cares and have light-hearted fun. Meeting old friends, buying a cheap trinket for a loved one, showing off finery and enjoying the entertainments... what better way to take a mind off worry? Aethelflaed did not usually attend such events, but this time she would take her daughter. It would cheer Aelfwynn up, and also show her to the people. Let them see mother and daughter together - And Aelfwynn would understand that these were also her people and she had a duty towards them.

Aelfwynn agreed readily to this idea and considered how she could turn it to her advantage. If she could arrange that her mother and Thorbjorn could meet, it would help to make her own plans so much simpler. Her mother would see how lovely Thorbjorn was and she would remember how she had also loved a Northman, so she could not help but realise the cruelty of keeping the two apart. It would take but a chance meeting for Aethelflaed's heart to melt. 

Neither mother or daughter had any inkling of what the other was thinking.

It was a sunny day and the crowds were already milling on the green field. Ancient oak trees gave welcome shade and the sellers gathered under them to entice people with good things. There were jugs of apple juice for the thirsty, hot pies and honey cakes for the hungry, and ribbons, nosegays, purses, all manner of small items run up from spare fabric or leather. The local market sellers had also come with fresh fruit and vegetables. Two dogs got into a fight, cheered on by small children. There were races, games that involved a lot of throwing and tossing, arm-wrestling and a tug of war. An old horse was led up and down with a row of excited children on its back, and all the time musicians strummed and blew, encouraging people to dance.

Aethelflaed would once have enjoyed it, but now it did little to lift her jaded spirits. Uhtred had left her alone again with Aethelred, and Aelfwynn was giving her a headache with worry. She smiled benevolently as people curtseyed and bowed as she went past, followed by some of her ladies and a few of the household guard. Aelfwynn was looking flushed and happy, which was a good sign. She was also in good looks, her hair shone and the blue-green dress looked very well on her. People must notice the mother and her daughter with pride and appreciation, she felt. And so they should. 

Over the past few years Aethelflaed had done more than anyone else in the royal house to check the Danish advance. She had won battles, she had strengthened the burhs, making it harder for the Danes to attack them. Danes did not relish long fights or sieges, they preferred lightning raids - booty, silver, slaves, were what interested them. And Aethelflaed was not going to give it to them. She had devoted so much of her life to driving them back, to helping realise her father's dream of a united Englaland. Her brother was also winning, but she felt that it would be the next king of Wessex, preferably Aethelstan, who would become king of all.

She may have had a kingdom to win, but she also had a daughter to keep out of trouble. "See how the people look up to us" she said in her low melodious voice, "and it is on days like this that we see what we are truly fighting for. This is Englaland, the people coming together to celebrate and enjoy the rewards of peace. How can this have a price except our sacrifice?"

A monk and a priest passed by, attracting instant respect from Aethelflaed, who smiled at them and called brief greeting. She would know who they were, reflected Aelfwynn who vaguely recognised only one. How could she ever grow to be a leader like her mother when she didn't make the effort to know people?

"Mother, let's go to see the man over there, the one with the dancing dogs. They look so funny!"

At the edge of the field, under some trees, a man was juggling some pine cones while small dogs bounced on their hind legs, pretending to beg for the cones. Aethelflaed privately thought the whole thing ludicrous but there was skill to the man's antics. They stood and watched for a while when suddenly Aelfwynn turned to her mother and said, "I want you to meet Thorbjorn,"  
A young man had appeared beside them. Aethelflaed turned to look at him, suddenly cold and formal. Her smile lingered faintly but her eyes became wary. She should have predicted this!  
"My Lady, I am your servant," he bowed to her. Not too low, just the right amount to show respect without fawning, Aethelflaed noted. She caught a glimpse of simple but tasteful garb, with well-cut boots. The hair was worn in a Northman style but softer, with the top hair tied simply and left unbraided, and the sides showing some growth. He stood up and her good impression vanished at once.

She could have been looking into the cold slanting eyes of Sigefrid though these eyes were warm and respectful. Thorbjorn Sigefridsson, he could indeed be the son of that wretch, the man who had stolen her joy with one sword stroke. Whose black soul dwelt not in Valhalla but the depths of hell. She stared at him. Then she looked at her daughter; Aelfwynn's face was bright with expectation, she looked cautiously happy.  
"I have nothing to say to you," Aethelflaed replied curtly to him and walked away, her mood a mixture of shock and anger.  
How _could_ they have done it?  
How dare they?

The two young people watched Aethelflaed pass through the crowds, responding graciously to well-wishers but very clearly leaving.  
"I don't understand it!" cried Aelfwynn in despair, "I so wanted you to meet, I thought she would like you and understand from her own experience how we feel!"  
"The look she gave me... as if she'd seen a ghost. I don't know, _cariad_ , but I think she saw my father and not me. Remember he is said to have killed her lover."  
"But that is not reasonable! Mother always talks about reason... How can she blame you for your father's deeds? And now she'll be angry with me. Oh Thorbjorn, what shall we do?"  
"We let her calm down. Stay here for a while longer, and let's enjoy the fair together". Aelfwynn looked around; her mother had walked away with some speed and not all the company had gone with her. Most of them had been mingling with the crowd a slight distance away. Some now stayed behind to keep an eye on the daughter, but Aelfwynn was not looking at them. She wanted to make plans with Thorbjorn, her Welsh Viking.


	10. Showdown

Her head held high, Aelfwynn returned to the royal residence. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Her mother had been unreasonable and Aelfwynn didn't see why she should have to fear. Of course she was nervous, her mother could make everyone afraid just by an icy word or look. But this time her daughter was not going to be intimidated. She was in love, she had a right to that love.

She passed her cloak to a servant and headed to her chamber and it was not long before her mother was standing before her.  
"What can you have been thinking?" She hissed. Aelfwynn was reclining on her bed and she looked up at her mother calmly.  
"I'm not aware that I did anything wrong. I wanted you to meet the man I love. Did you have to be so nasty to him? He only wanted to meet you."  
"Well he's met me, so let that be an end to it. You are not to see him again. You are not to contact him again, either through a messenger or a note. I utterly and completely forbid you to have any more to do with him, or any - Northman at all. You are to leave these stupid notions behind like childish toys, and start thinking like the Mercian noblewoman that you are. You will marry the man of my and your father's choosing. There, now you can think about this and come down when you are ready to agree and discuss it."  
"I will not marry some dreary noble just because he's from a powerful family, just to please you. I don't think I will ever please you anyway. I think my father likes me better than you do, and he doesn't really care about me either."  
"Your father agrees with me."  
"My father isn't interested. He spends his time drinking - you drove him to it probably. Well I am not going to be driven to swilling wine just to endure the future you wish for me. You ruined his life, you will not ruin mine!"

For a moment, Aethelflaed had no words. How could her daughter be so completely wrong? She took a deep breath and exhaled quickly. This was going very badly. "I will disown you if you have any more to do with that man." she said softly.  
"Go ahead. I don't care. You are always telling people what to do, and I am not going to take any more of your orders. You can save them for your army and for Uhtred, who you seem to prefer to any of us. I find it hard to believe you have a heart. You are cold. Your heart turned to stone years ago. You wouldn't even try to know Thorbjorn! If you had even spoken to him decently, you might have realised what a sweet and good man he is, and how much he cares for me. But no, you are so selfish, so unfeeling, so totally determined to control me that you don't care how much you hurt me!"  
"I thought I had a daughter, but I find I have raised a snake, a Judas. You are no child of mine. I don't know you anymore. I think I never did."  
"No I don't think you did either. So what exactly was it about Thorbjorn that you didn't like? You haven't given me one good reason for your behaviour to him!"  
"I don't need to give you a reason. You are my daughter and under my authority. You will stay in your room until you decide to obey me."

Then she was gone.

Aelfwynn sighed. Her mother had not actually locked her in, so she would not stay in her room. She thought of going to see her father and begging him for his support but knew it was useless. Aethelred was not interested in her and he was probably more afraid of his wife.


	11. Sacrifice

Aethelflaed left her daughter's chamber and suddenly felt very tired. Planning the feast and thinking about her daughter's future had exhausted her. That awful confrontation at the fair, those black eyes.... True, Aelfwynn could not possibly know how her mother's heart had almost stopped at the sight of that young man. Like a figure from hell Sigefrid had returned to haunt her again: Sigefrid, her nemesis. 

She went to her own chamber and sat on the bed. She looked around her at all the trappings of a royal ruler. The Princess of Wessex, Lady of Mercia. Leader of Armies and terror of Danes. 

And she could not even control her own daughter, a slip of a thing who had got the better of her. Aethelflaed gave a grim smile, perhaps there was more of her in the child than she thought. Two determined women in a death match. 

Her daughter was right. Aethelflaed's heart was cold. Her heart had turned to stone the day that Sigefrid's sword pierced Erik's heart. She had stood on the upper walkway of the great hall where the fire had begun to take hold and watched in horror as Erik's lifeblood pooled around the cruel blade. Uhtred at her side was beseeching her... _Aethelflaed, we must go...._

Part of her never left that place. As she watched her lover die, his eyes still wide with shock, she let her own heart die within her. She knew that people said she had grown hard, and most of them put it down to the Danish wars, but the truth was that part of her died that day in Beamfleot. 

She looked down at her hands, they were thinner now, with more wrinkles than she remembered. Her hair too was showing more grey. It had been half a lifetime ago when he had held one of her smooth hands in his and caressed it, _Du er så dyrebar, min elskede..._ you are so precious, my darling.... He had always called her that: his precious.

They had so nearly made it. 

In order to protect his ransom Sigefrid had put Aethelflaed in an iron cage which hung from the ceiling of the great hall. He feared that Erik's love for Aethelflaed was harming the brothers' standing among their men and so he had decided to separate the lovers. Once inside Beamfleot, Uhtred's men had lowered the cage and were on the verge of breaking the iron bands, while Erik had rushed to reassure her. He had bent down to where she was huddled in the cruel confines and his words were all of encouragement, "Not long now, just a moment and we'll be away from here." She remembered his eyes, so full of hope and longing. Their new life. Together. _Not long now, just a moment longer..._ Uhtred's men had set fire to the adjoining buildings to draw attention from the hall, but at that moment there was a crash and the great doors burst open to reveal a furious Sigefrid standing in front of the flames. "ERIKKKK!" he thundered, "Do not dare to do this! Our reputation!"  
In vain had her lover pleaded for the once chance he would ever ask for. All those years of loyalty and service meant for nothing. Sigefrid would rather have Aethelflaed burn to death in the cage than let her leave with Erik. Her lover unsheathed his weapons. He signalled to Uhtred and his men to stand back and faced his brother defiantly:  
"If you want your fortune, you must kill me!"  
While he fought with his brother, he bought time for Uhtred's men. _Get her out of here!...._ His last words.

Oh her brave, lovely, stupid Erik.

Now, over fifteen years later, she had to endure it all again. How could she let her daughter, her flesh and blood, marry the child of that fiend? Their children - her bloodline inexorably mixed with his? The thought was too foul to think of. Sigefrid stole her lover and now from the grave he was stealing her daughter, her grandchildren....

It was as if she had been the victim of some strange, savage curse.


	12. Flight

She took a last, long look around the room, her chamber. Except that it was never hers, she reflected. It belonged to her parents, and she merely inhabited it at their pleasure. In reality very little in that room belonged to her. "But I belong to myself" she said to herself firmly, "and my destiny is mine to decide."  
A little shiver ran through her. Her destiny. Was she really going to do this - throw herself and her future into the arms of someone she barely knew?  
But what was the alternative? The alternative she could see clearly - a life of constraint, a loveless marriage, a dutiful life in the service of people who probably didn't wish for it and would not be grateful. What was the point of that?  
She fingered the little gold cross at her neck, the metal felt warm from her skin. 

Her destiny was not inexorable. She would choose it for herself. "I'm sorry Grandfather, Mother and Father," she murmured to herself as she gathered her cloak around her shoulders.

Then she left. Passing through the cook house she paused to gather some food and again she looked round. The little ginger cat wove itself around her legs, gazing up with amber eyes. Aelfwynn quickly tossed it a sliver of ham and then she made for the door. She would leave via the rear of the building, fewer would notice.

No one would worry about her - not since a week ago she had solemnly told her mother that she was no longer in contact with Thorbjorn and would marry 'wisely'. She had taken up a basket and gone out with provisions for the poor. It had almost killed her, not the untruths, but having to listen to her mother's incessant chatter about engagements and arrangements. If she were honest, it was harder having to lie to her maid Ayda whom she could not take with her. Ayda would hate it in Wales.

She hurried towards the hamlet where the poor mostly lived and then turned to the little path alongside, and into the trees. Moments later, two men driving an old cart made their way along the road which led through the gates of the burh and no one thought much of it.

Half a mile on, the cart stopped beside the forest where more figures and horses appeared. A slight young woman with bright red-gold hair emerged from the back of the cart and was helped onto a horse. The company burst into a fast trot and swerved off the road into the forest.

Free at last!

Aelfwynn inhaled the fresh air of freedom and thought, 'well it is done now'. She thought of the tree of life in the old religion under which three women sat weaving the threads of our lives. If they had existed, they would have taken up the scissors and cut one of her threads, replacing it with another in a different colour, she mused to herself. Uncle Uhtred would have made a comment about the spinners laughing, she thought, but what else could she do? She looked across and smiled at the figure alongside her, Thorbjorn smiled back at her, that radiant smile which lit up his serious face. He looked so happy, she thought, but more than that there was an expression of exhilaration on his face, he loved adventures. They were taking the route he often took when he crossed the border from Wales into England. He liked to go exploring, he had explained, it wasn't exactly raiding, but almost as exciting since with his Viking appearance he was often chased and threatened.

What would Aethelflaed do when she discovered her daughter was missing? She would feel angry, of course, but also betrayed by her daughter's lies. Aelfwynn had taken care not to tell outright lies - she had said she was prepared to consider agreeing to her mother's terms, which had been enough for her mother, who would have put her language down to not wanting to lose face. The comment about marrying wisely would never be interpreted in the way Aelfwynn meant.... she thought it wisest to marry where her heart led. The almsgiving trips were to get people used to seeing her out and about in a cloak, carrying a basket. A deception, but it also meant that she could plan her escape route out of the burh. She had not been in contact with Thorbjorn but Rhodri, one of his companions.

Her mother would feel completely betrayed. Dishonestly of any kind, by word, deed or hint, was frowned on by her grandfather, so for one of Alfred's grandchildren to elope in this way would no doubt be seen as a complete rejection of all he had stood for. 

Except it wasn't. Aelfwynn believed in her grandfather as much as she ever did. Love for Alfred and all he stood for was in the bones of all his children. If she had children of her own, she would teach them his values as she herself had been taught. She caught sight of a dove somewhere overhead, and reflected that Uhtred would say it was an omen from Odin or Thor or someone. A dove, surely something good?

 

The Mercian royal residence in Gleawecester was a two-day ride to King Caradog's court. Thorbjorn had brought five companions with him, including the original two, and all had been heavily armed. But in the rough and hilly terrain they were more at risk from local bandits than Mercian fighting men.

Thorbjorn had suggested that his grandfather's court get used to Aelfwynn before learning exactly who she was. Only his mother would be told. Eirianwen, the peacemaker.


	13. At the Court of King Caradog

King Caradog's fortress was a stronghold with outlying buildings, some of which were round houses and all surrounded by a wooden palisade. Large numbers of trees had been cleared to give a good view of the surrounding area. Beyond that was woodland and forest. The great hall was smaller than many Aelfwynn had seen but everything seemed in good order. Her mother had spoken of Wales as if it were a strange and savage land, and Thorbjorn had warned her not to expect too much. But a first impression was encouraging.

Her first few days were spent quietly as the King was away subduing raiders, and life at the household was not so busy. Thorbjorn's mother and stepfather had greeted her kindly. They had a large residence behind the hall, close to where the stream ran. It was there that Aelfwynn spent most of her time. She had been given a small adjacent roundhouse to herself with a maid, Gwen, who, like most of the people, spoke no Englisc. Aelfwynn wondered what Thorbjorn had told them about her, clearly they were treating her like a Saxon princess. 

Eirianwen had been eager to meet Aelfwynn. From what Thorbjorn had told her, she expected a shy and unconfident girl, overwhelmed by her powerful family. She must be given every chance to rest and discover her true feelings among a tribe of strangers who would be staring at her, curious about this newcomer. When Thorbjorn had come home to tell her that he had found a wonderful girl and was minded to marry her, his mother had been surprised. There was so much of Sigefrid in her son that she was not expecting him to marry for some years yet, if ever. He spent a lot of time riding out, exploring, or joining his grandfather's forces in keeping the local peace. He was a good warrior and had a natural authority so it was clear that he would never be content with being a member of the household guard. He would want his own fortress one day. As Sigefrid had. 

Perhaps if Sigefrid had received a different upbringing, he might have been more like his son, Eirianwen reflected. Thorbjorn had turned into a devoted son to her and was politely respectful to Merddyn. He had never felt completely at home among her people although he had been treated well. Had he been bullied? If so he would never mention it, but there was a wariness about his face which hid his feelings well. Like his father he was ambitious to make his way in the world, and like his father he would do it by war. Yet here he was, talking about marrying the daughter of a Saxon princess, and speaking of her as if he really cared for her. What would Sigefrid have thought?

Now Aelfwynn was here, and they must make her as welcome as possible. She knew no words of Welsh and was bound to be tired and confused. It was clear that she and Thorbjorn had formed a real attachment to each other - but would it last? Sigefrid had been rootless and Eirianwen had found it impossible to keep him in one place for long; his son would need someone strong and devoted enough to provide a stable home so he wouldn't wander. Thorbjorn had described Aelfwynn as like a fairytale princess. Eirianwen thought there was indeed an otherworldly quality in this young woman with her very pale skin, sea-green eyes and silken copper coloured hair. Would she be robust enough for the rigours of childbearing, and indeed life with Thorbjorn, which promised to be demanding enough? 

However the young people would fare together, it was clear that a marriage must happen fairly soon. Eirianwen wondered how the Saxon princess and her husband would treat their daughter should she return unwed to them? Would they shut her away in a nunnery or explain away her absence with a lie? It was strange that she hadn't been betrothed before now. The only child of Mercia's leading noble family and niece to the king of Wessex, she should be too valuable to have remained unclaimed so long. Was there a problem with her?

 

King Caradog returned and once more the activity stepped up. There would be a feast in the great hall and Aelfwynn would be presented to him. Eirianwen lent her one of her gowns. In the few days that had passed since Thorbjorn had brought her to their home, she had seemed to settle in well. The household ate together, which was easier than going to the hall, and meant that Aelfwynn could get to know them in a more relaxed surrounding. She was trying hard to understand the language and could already say 'please' and 'thank you'. Eirianwen knew little of the Wessex royals but thought that they brought up their children well, the girl was polite and did not expect deference. Now she sat contentedly in a soft chair playing with one of the hearth dogs.  
"Bjorni, if you really mean to marry this girl, you must resolve always to treat her well." His mother said to him when they were alone, "Aelfwynn is clearly very sensitive and gentle, and she is not yet a grown woman, I mean she does not really know her own mind the way an older person would. It would not be difficult to destroy her dreams and kill the love she has for you."  
Thorbjorn looked thoughtful, "But you do like her, don't you, Ma?"  
"It would be very difficult not to like her. But she's not at all the kind of girl I expected you to bring home."  
"You thought I'd carry off a buxom blonde Saxon wench, didn't you?" laughed Thorbjorn, then he looked serious, "I've never seen anyone like her. I burst into that hut and there we both were, dripping wet, but she completely ignored that and helped me. I thought she'd betray me to her people but she didn't. It was like fate, Ma, what the Saxons call wyrd."  
"So it was love at first sight?"  
"I'm not sure, but when she came into the hut on that second day, with her face flushed from the brisk walk, I thought she looked like an angel from heaven. And I don't think she has any idea of it. She's not vain and she doesn't have airs. I thought she wouldn't like it here but she seems to, even though it must be very hard for her, having run away from her family."  
"Which is why you have to be quite sure that you will always treat her well. I like her, Bjorni, but she's so young, and it would not be hard to crush her spirits. That would be a terrible thing to do to her, she's so innocent and trusting. You mustn't let her down, even if you should decide that the marriage was a mistake."

Thorbjorn realised that his mother was talking from some experience. She had been abandoned, even if his father had intended to send for her. The truth was that Sigefrid should have visited her, even just the once to see his son. 

Aelfwynn felt mostly very happy. Although the language difference meant that she could not speak easily to most people, including Merddyn, she liked Eirianwen and her love for Thorbjorn seemed to grow daily. They were seldom entirely alone together, but sat in his parents' hall while people came and went. Eirianwen organised her hearth efficiently but found time to sit at some sewing or reading nearby. Aelfwynn realised that this was for her benefit so there was no gossip. She and Thorbjorn chatted, or played a board game. One afternoon when the weather was fine, they went outside to practice archery at which she was not good, "My mother shot her first deer at age twelve," she told Thorbjorn, "I have never hit anything that moved."  
"I suspect there are two reasons for this that have nothing to do with your mother. One, you never took enough time to practice, because, two, you were not interested enough."  
"My mother had to do it, her father had said she must have weapons training. She didn't insist with me. She was too busy fighting Danes."  
"Come now, _cariad_ , you could have done it if you wanted. Look, we'll get you some training here. I want you to be able to use a distance weapon...and you could bring in the dinner as well."  
She realised he was teasing her. She wasn't used to this kind of banter and at first had found it difficult to understand, as if he was making fun of her. Then she understood that teasing can be a form of affection. She gave him a playful punch.  
"I like how your mother calls you Bjorni, it's nice here. But I am getting worried about...."

They were interrupted by shouts, people calling her name. Aelfwynn wondered what was wrong. It was too early to go to the great hall, what could they want? She hurried over to Thorbjorn's mother who was waving urgently to her.  
"There are some people here, asking for you. I think you should come." said Eirianwen. Aelfwynn frowned, "My parents have found me? You won't let them take me away will you, not before we are married?"  
"No one is taking you away," said another, deeper, voice behind her. Aelfwynn turned at the familiar sound, hardly able to believe it. Yes, it was Uhtred and some of his war band! Despite herself, she ran towards him and gave him a hug. He laughed. "I see they are feeding you, Lady," he said.  
"Of course they are! Have you come to take me back to my parents?"  
"Your mother sent me to find you. Aelfwynn, they are worried about you. But I won't force you to do anything..." Aelfwynn looked into his face, worn and rugged with years of battle. "but we need to talk" he added. 

Aethelflaed had sent Uhtred to find Aelfwynn once she realised that it was most likely she had run away to Wales to be with Thorbjorn. Uhtred had been told to bring her home as soon as she was found. However this was not what he told Aelfwynn. "Your mother has been desperate with worry, she only wants to know you are safe".  
"I won't go home to marry some Mercian I barely know. I want Thorbjorn and she has forbidden me to see him. How did you find me?"  
He gave a tight smile, "Ways and means," he said enigmatically. He looked around, the place seemed well run, but the wild situation might not be the safest, he thought. Yet despite the basic way of life here, Aelfwynn was clearly not unhappy, and in fact seemed more poised and self-possessed than he had ever seen her. "You are happy here?"  
"I am, everyone is very kind to me. I have my own quarters and a maid."  
"And Thorbjorn?" he gave her a long look. She laughed, "You'd like to know, wouldn't you? He's attentive and kind, as they all are. And I wish to marry him so that we can be together properly."  
He seemed to relax at this. "I've been asked to bring you home,"  
"I'm sure you have - but, please, don't drag me away from here! I'd die if I had to go back there - I know you love my mother but surely you can see how difficult she can be, always wanting her own way. Always sure she's right. Why should I marry some dull noble just to please her? It wouldn't matter if some other man became Lord of the Mercians after my father dies, and marries who he chooses. Everyone knows that Uncle Edward is the real king of everywhere. It's not as if I can lead an army into battle like Mother does, is it?"  
Uhtred looked sullen. "She's most anxious for you to come home. Look, if it helps I can speak to h-"  
"No! I'll kill myself first! I will NOT go home to do what she says. I'd rather die. I used to sit in my chamber and wish I was dead, all the time, I hated my life until I met Thorbjorn. He's the only one who treated me like a sensible person. If you drag me away I will hate you forever and never, never forgive you! I won't eat. I will stab myself. I'll go to the lepers and catch their disease. I swear it, I can't, can't go back there and leave Thorbjorn!" she stifled a sob and looked at him with huge, brimming eyes.

Uhtred remembered a time long ago when he tried to reason with another young woman, _If I do not leave this place with Erik, I will not leave it at all_. He had gone against his oath lord, against his own instincts to help the desperate lovers. The odds were better this time, he figured.  
"I just want this one chance!" wailed Aelfwynn. 

_Brother, please give me this one chance...._ Erik had implored and the response had been a sword into his heart. Uhtred couldn't be the instrument that broke this child's heart.  
"Your plans? how far are they?"  
"We want to be married in the next few days. The priest is preparing us and Eirianwen is making me a robe..."  
"And where will you live?"  
"Here. I have a little round house. Thorbjorn will move into it. My maid will move out into the parents' house. It's very small but will suit us for now."  
"Let me see,"  
Uhtred satisfied himself that the simple dwelling was clean, dry and secure. The bed and earth floor were much more basic than the wooden floors and solid furnishings of a Mercian nobleman's house. For a moment he was tempted to laugh at the absurdities of young love. An idea was forming in his mind, but first he must meet Thorbjorn and put the fear of the gods into him.

It was the gods who put the fear into Uhtred, almost, when he saw Thorbjorn. Facing the image of a man he last saw more than fifteen years ago, Uhtred might have believed the dead could rise.  
"You are very like your father," he said in a low mistrustful voice. Thorbjorn, who had heard of Uhtred of Bebbanburg, thought he looked like an ageing Thor. Tall in his wargear, with his great longsword worn across his back, the old warrior was impressive enough to instil caution even in the boldest fighter. This was the man that Aethelflaed had chosen to hunt down her daughter.  
"I never knew my father, Lord." said Thorbjorn, "Whatever he was like, I am not him. I want to marry Aelfwynn, not because she is noble but because she is precious to me, we are bound to each other. I swear I will take care of her."

For hours she had wept in his arms: _He called me precious...._ How the words of the past were coming back now! Why should these children suffer because of their parents' sorrows? At once Uhtred saw how it must have been for Aethelflaed. She had seen Thorbjorn, been shocked at his resemblance to Erik's brother - and killer - and adamant that her daughter should have nothing more to do with him. But her reasoning was based on events that were over long ago. This was now. He had helped the mother; shouldn't he now help the daughter, even at the expense of breaking his promise to Aethelflaed, to whom he had pledged his oath?

He had broken his oath to Alfred by helping the lovers at Beamfleot and he had never regretted it. He wished that Erik had survived; he and the princess could have gone to Ragnar's fortress at Dunholme, though what came next, he could not imagine. But life has a way of happening one way or another, and things often found a solution. Yes, he would help these two children as he had tried to help those others, so long ago.

He had a feeling the spinners were laughing at him. But he would do it.


	14. A Wedding

Aelfwynn missed her mother. For all her domineering ways, it would have been so lovely to have Aethelflaed at the wedding. Both her parents should have been there, to share in her joy. Although she must not be ungrateful, because Eirianwen had been wonderfully kind. It was thanks to her that Aelfwynn now stood in her pale dress which reflected the colour of her eyes, with her silken hair braided and woven with ribbon. She had new leather shoes, soft as butter, and a silver bracelet that had been a gift from Caradog. 

The hall was full as she entered on the arm of Uhtred. Thorbjorn looked so handsome in his tunic. The well-wishers smiled at her as she went past, though she knew less than half of them. Everyone wanted to see the pretty girl that Thorbjorn had brought home to marry.

Her heart was singing; her life was hers, and she had seized her destiny. She was marrying the man of her choice, and from now on, her family must accept her as grown up and not some foolish child who needed to be guided all the time.

Uhtred stopped and the ceremony began. He took his seat, sighed and gave a slight shake of his head; he was Aethelflaed's oathman, and he had broken that oath. Well, what was he supposed to do - bring a sobbing girl back to her home, one more time? Once was enough. He looked at the flushed and joyful expression on the bride's face; she was such a sensitive little thing, it would be so easy to crush her spirit. And such a shame, there was an almost wildness to her soul that he liked. As if she were a little bird which needs to soar in the air to be truly free and alive. Or perhaps she was like one of those water spirits that these Welsh people once believed in, at one with the sky, the air and the earth.. It was a pity there was to be no pagan element to this ceremony, he felt that the whole thing should be sealed with a sacrifice of some sort. That would bring down the approval of the gods. Aethelflaed would be horrified of course, and indeed so would her daughter. Aelfwynn once told him that her main objection to the old religion was the idea of sacrificing a horse or a dog. No, what Aelfwynn really needed wasn't a dead animal, but a friend. Preferably several. 

King Caradog was clearly proud of his grandson. Thorbjorn had proved himself as a useful fighter, he was loyal and didn't complain. Uhtred had heard only good things of this young man who looked so disconcertingly like another man he had known years ago; the Lord of Chaos. He would have to speak to Aethelflaed, convince her that it was foolish to relive times long past. His heart ached for her, his woman of gold. Uhtred had loved all his women, but perhaps the one he loved best and longest was Aethelflaed. He knew her so well, how she thought, all her little gestures and mannerisms. He could even predict her. Did she feel the same way? He wasn't sure. She certainly liked his presence and took comfort in their lovemaking, and there was an easy familiarity to their relationship, forged over the years. He loved her, he loved her sweet face, her surprisingly gentle smile and little things like the way she took a fierce little breath before she made an important statement. But he never really knew her heart; that had been guarded privately, ever since Beamfleot. Perhaps the Dane had been the great love of her life. If so, Uhtred wasn't jealous, he had had enough of Aethelflaed to make them both happy and Erik had been a decent guy. They would meet again in Valhalla, he was sure of it.

What the Welsh did best, he reflected later, was a good fight and a feast. They would make do with just the feast. The great hall rang with the sound of laughter, and even if the language was not familiar, the mood was. A minstrel sang and people even joined in the words. Then the King stood up and began speaking in a croaky singsong voice. He seemed overcome by it all, the pretty bride, his handsome grandson, Thorbjorn's proud mother who had brought him up so well, but most of all Caradog was overcome by the amount of mead that he had drunk. He raised his gold goblet and spoke with tremulous emotion. Uhtred didn't have to understand the language to know what he was saying. 

A culmination of a life well lived, to be surrounded by one's children and grandchildren with the prospect of another generation in a few months or so. Caradog was right to be proud, thought Uhtred, as indeed was Aethelflaed, if she could only see the possibilities in this fresh beginning.

She had wanted her daughter to marry a Mercian because her husband was Lord of the Mercians and after him Aelfwynn's husband would fulfil that role. But why? Without a son to inherit the title, it could surely be passed to whoever was most suited to it. If Aethelflaed was widowed soon, which seemed likely, then she could continue as she had been doing for the past few years, running Mercia for her brother. But for how long did they need a Lord of Mercia, the uncrowned king, when the dream of a united Englaland was coming ever closer?

It was indeed a mess. Aelfwynn could have married a Mercian and put off the discussion for another generation. Now they would be faced with it.

As the feast wore on and gave way to heavy drinking, the young couple was carried to the little roundhouse. Aelfwynn, perched high on the shoulders of several men, thought she'd never seen so many stars and again felt the bittersweet pangs of regret for her mother. She would have liked to share these precious moments with her parents. But she could not go back to Mercia unmarried and be given away like a prize.

Eirianwen had gently prepared her for her new life, and what to expect from a husband. Even so, Aelfwynn hoped that Thorbjorn would know more than she did. There was a rustle at the door frame, the leather curtain parted and her new husband joined her. At last! In the confusion of the day she had not thought about 'later' and now it was upon them. Her maid hadn't appeared so she would have to get herself ready. She sat on the edge of the bed staring straight ahead.  
"Good evening," Said Thorbjorn, sitting on the other side. How much had he been drinking? She turned her head to look at him and found him doing the same.  
"Good evening." She said in reply. They were silent for a while. Then suddenly they both began laughing at the same time.  
"I think we should get into bed before it gets too cold." Said her husband.  
"Good idea. We should do that." Swiftly, she kicked off her lovely new shoes and pulled her dress and shift over her head. Then she lifted the covers and was in bed. Thorbjorn was still struggling with his sword belt and boots while seated on the bed, his back to her. Aelfwynn had the sudden feeling that he was also shy.

He blew out the candle, slid into bed and lay on his back, looking at the roof. "It was a good day, wasn't it?" He muttered.  
"It was lovely, and your mother was so kind. And Merddyn as well..."  
"She helped you, then? Your dress was beautiful. You looked like an angel, _cariad_." He put an arm across the covers where it rested lightly over her.  
"She did."  
"What did she say? I mean how much did she tell you?" He was tentative, nervous.  
Aelfwynn giggled. "Oh you know, she thought you would know enough for a successful wedding night, anyway." She was glad he couldn't see her blush in the darkness. He was silent for a moment.  
"I'm not sure she was right about that. Perhaps we can teach each other?" He said at length.  
"You mean you've not....?"  
In response he leaned over her and gave her a lingering kiss. He was so good at kissing, she reflected. She closed her eyes and thought with gladness that he was all hers, in every way.


	15. Resignation

There was that dove again. 

Surely this was a good omen? Aelfwynn hoped so. There was no reason to be afraid after all. She had Uhtred on her side, and Eirianwen had agreed to go with them, so Aethelflaed would at least be reassured that the Welsh wore clothes and spoke Englisc. Best of all, Aelfwynn had Thorbjorn, her husband of two weeks.

Uhtred's orders had been to bring back Aelfwynn so he could not let her stay any longer in Wales. Fearing Aethelflaed's wrath, he had made Thorbjorn his oath man, offering him protection in return for loyalty. Uhtred was of course Aethelflaed's oath man, so in a sense, Thorbjorn was now sworn to her. However angry she may be, Aethelflaed must respect that. Thorbjorn would join Uhtred's war band. That was the start, anyway. 

 

She was going home. Her mother had gone home from Beamfleot in deepest grief, and Eirianwen had resignedly returned after Sigefrid's death. Both had made a new start, but with a heavy heart, Aelfwynn supposed. Now here she was, a young wife and full of hope for a better future than she had ever dreamed of in Gleawcester. If her mother did not like this, then it was a pity, but not Aelfwynn's tragedy. She looked across at her husband and caught his eye. He flashed her a secretive smile and a wink. Life never overwhelmed him, she thought. A little smile played on her lips; he was totally hers. 

The party was headed for the home of Earl Oswin, who lived on the borders of Wales and Mercia. He was one of Aethelflaed's ealdormen, and a trusted friend. There would be no gossip. 

Aelfwynn saw the banners as they approached. Her mother's goose and cross, the boar of Mercia, Aethelred's prancing horse, and a strange banner, a sword and cross - Oswin's no doubt. The little party travelled under the wolf of Bebbanburg, which now took its place among the other banners.

Despite seeing his banner, Aelfwynn did not expect to see her father there, and he was indeed absent. Her mother made a show of greeting Uhtred and his band. It was not until they had dismounted and entered the hall that her mother spoke to Aelfwynn. "You are well, daughter?" she enquired coldly. Thorbjorn might not even have been there, thought Aelfwynn.

There were matters to consider and Aelfwynn found herself an onlooker at the discussions, all of which concerned herself and her future. She sat beside Thorbjorn who wordlessly listened to everything. Was he offended? She couldn't tell but thought probably not. He had said he wasn't concerned with his own feelings, but hers. Aelfwynn felt she simply had to get through this difficult meeting and then return to her home with Thorbjorn. She had a new family now and they loved and accepted her. 

Uhtred implied that the young couple were already married when he found them but pointed out that conferring the Lordship of Mercia on a Mercian noble, one among many, would give prominence to one family and could cause unease and jealousy among the others. He reminded them that it had been Alfred's dream that the separate kingdoms should come under one ruler and Mercia was likely to be the first to concede, however much the Mercians did not like bowing to Wessex.

Eirianwen had asked to speak after Uhtred and stood up to introduce herself. She was brief and very simple. She brought greetings and gifts from King Caradog. Her family had no political interest in Mercian power, there were no Vikings involved, only her own family. They had welcomed Aelfwynn as the future wife of Thorbjorn, and having been presented with the eloping couple, had treated her with honour. 

Aethelflaed watched and listened as this still attractive woman spoke. There was a lot of sense and practicality in her words. She seemed genuinely fond of Aelfwynn - could she have got to know her better than her own mother did? All this talk of warmth and affection - Aethelflaed could have done without it. The Mercians would never accept Thorbjorn; never in a hundred years would they agree to having him in their midst, much less as the consort of Aethelred's daughter. He was the bastard son of a particularly feared Viking and this would always be held against him.

All she could hope for was that the marriage was a childish folly which would in time lose its allure for the two children. Then they could all go home and forget about it. And she could forget forever about Sigefrid and his horrible legacy. For now she must refuse to give in to her fears and just accept things as they were. 

She could have become friendly with Eirianwen; the Welsh princess had a gentle grace and warmth about her, but then Aethelflaed recalled that this woman had been Sigefrid's lover. That slender body had known his caresses. Her strong supple hands had caressed him back. Even if she had been abandoned, she had once loved this fiend and no doubt some part of her always would. Perhaps she had met Erik? That thought revolted Aethelflaed - Erik was hers, and she felt sick at the thought of anyone else sharing memories of him. Strange... she had tried to forget Beamfleot, but it never left her. The army she led into battle against the Danes, she led it screaming for revenge. Sigefrid was among the enemy, he must die again and again. What would gentle Eirianwen think of that?

Now she had the present to untangle. Aethelred and she would give the bridal couple a stronghold of their own, comfortably within Mercia but off the main routes. The place she had in mind would suit perfectly. It was modest but not too small, with enough farms. The buildings were shabby and needed work, this should give the young couple something to do. They must not expect to be rewarded too well for their behaviour, but neither could she let her daughter's disobedience bring dishonour to Alfred's house. She would announce nothing. Whatever servants' gossip might spread, if nothing is official, nothing can be confirmed. And marriages can be set aside easily enough. Thorbjorn was oathman to her oathman, he would be fighting for her now.


	16. Three Years Later

The ravens were still circling.... So many battles, reflected Aethelflaed, had it really been so long since she last saw her daughter? She had hoped that the childish romance would fizzle out but no, it seems the young couple were determined to make a success of it. The little stronghold she had given them had been made even more secure and the buildings put in good repair. This couldn't be her dreamy daughter's work, could it? The smell of new wood still lingered in the hall and everything was clean and well-cared for. This would be a first test at how efficient her daughter could be. A household staff was all very well, but they needed to be watched and made to work well. 

So now here they were, waiting to meet again. She sat and accepted a glass of wine. Her men were outside with the banners that proclaimed the company. The boar of Mercia, Uhtred's wolf of Bebbanburg, and her own personal standard. 

Her daughter entered at last with that man who had stolen her from their hearth. Aethelflaed didn't look at him; that would wait. So this was Aelfwynn! Her mother would hardly know her. Gone was the waif with the anxious and far away expression, here was a confident, poised young woman in a dress of Mercian blue. Aethelflaed rose and went to meet her. The two women embraced.  
"Mother," Aelfwynn gave her a respectful bow and looked up into her face. "I have missed you," she said evenly. A small smile.  
"Daughter, you look well. I am glad of it."  
"I am well, and happy. Thorbjorn you know, but you have yet to meet Elric." she stood back and a small child appeared with his nurse. Aethelflaed was genuinely surprised. Blond hair, light skin and blue eyes, so not another Sigefrid.  
"I think we have a lot to talk about." Observed the older woman. She looked again at her daughter, the blue dress was generously cut, could it be that....?  
"You are....?" she said.  
Aelfwynn nodded.

She was a grandmother. Aethelflaed had been told of the birth of course, but imagined the child to have been another black-eyed fiend. She had dreaded the sight of her own flesh and blood, and Alfred's bloodline, mingled with that monster's. But Sigefrid wasn't Thorbjorn, who anyway was half-Welsh and from a dark-skinned family. She took another look at Elric; blue eyes, a thoughtful expression. For all she knew he might more closely resemble her father and that Dane she wore close to her heart.

She held out her arms.

Harvest time is a time for peace, the cessation of war - there are crops to be brought in and preparations made for the long winter months ahead. The two women walked together as the light began to fade across the fields. Aethelflaed complimented her daughter on the progress with their home as if she was pleasantly surprised by it. It wasn't the time to feel offended that her mother must think so little of her organisation, thought Aelfwynn. In fact, Thorbjorn had arranged the building work and left her to choose the furnishings. 'I will never be as capable as my mother,' she reflected, 'but that is how I am, and the way Thorbjorn loves me'. 

"I am ready to get to know Thorbjorn." Said Aethelflaed at length. She sighed, "You know of course that if you remain with him, you can never rule Mercia."  
"I have never wanted to rule anything, except my own home. I will do as you ask in every other way. I never wanted to run from you, or hide from you. I missed you at my wedding, and I missed you when Elric was born. I missed you when we were rebuilding and planning the new hall.... Mother, I do understand. It has taken me some while, but I do know. If someone harmed Bjorni, I would not want to be anywhere near them either."

So she knew about Erik, Aethelflaed thought. It would not be easy, but one day, long in the future, she would have to tell her daughter about him. The reliquary cross would come to her with its precious contents. One day... but not yet. 

She took a deep breath "Uhtred said I should accept the future with a glad heart, as it is a future I have helped to make. The land your children - my grandchildren - will inherit will be one that your grandfather dreamed of and I helped create. You have found happiness and I am glad of it. One day you will be asked to do your duty also, but it will be years from now. Then you must do it."

Aelfwynn smiled secretly to herself as she felt her unborn baby kick. Her mother's sacrifice had not been just for Mercia, she reflected. All that suffering.... but it was ended at last.

"I will;" she agreed, "when the time comes I will play my part... The world is ours now."

 

Postscript

Aethelflaed died in 918AD, having ruled Mercia as a widow for seven years. Her daughter Aelfwynn took up her mother's role for six months before her uncle, King Edward the Elder, assumed complete control over both kingdoms of Wessex and Mercia.

It would be pleasing to imagine that Aelfwynn had always agreed to stand down after a short period of transition, after which she would return with relief to her home and family. 

The jewelled reliquary cross would be buried with Aethelflaed, lying next to her heart for eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> Caradoc's History of Wales preserves a tradition that Ælfwynn was deposed because of a secret marriage to a Danish king, but this is described by Michael Livingston as "historically unlikely" [Wikipedia]


End file.
